


Bright Jewels, Chained City

by AuroraBorealia, LadyNorbert



Series: Skyhold Academy Yearbook [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Book: Hard in Hightown - Varric Tethras, Detective Noir, Everyone is Someone You Know But We Changed the Names, In-Universe Fan Fiction, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Multi, Murder Mystery, Mystery, The Hanged Man (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras & Cullen Rutherford friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 100,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraBorealia/pseuds/AuroraBorealia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNorbert/pseuds/LadyNorbert
Summary: Rory and Jim turn in their senior writing project at Skyhold Academy - a series of short stories which are fan sequels to their teacher's most famous novel. He's so pleased with them, he sends them to his editor as well as sharing them with his colleagues.





	1. Prologue: Author to Editor

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle up, kids, it's going to be a heck of a ride. So here we have Jim and Rory's last writing project for their senior year at Skyhold Academy, and Varric is super proud of "Bishop and Sonnet." 
> 
> You will not recognize ANY of the names in these stories (except Captain Hendallen, if you've read Hard in Hightown, and Krem). What we did was write the stories using the characters' real names, and then go back and change them for the purpose, much as Rory and Jim would do - taking their inspiration from Varric himself. Follow along and see if you can guess who is whom; don't worry, there are hints in the names of characters tagged. They will all appear eventually.
> 
> Regular SAY readers may recognize the plot of "The Tourmaline Trap," the final story in this collection, since it's appeared before as a previous assignment written by the kids. It's been altered to fit in with the rest of the collection. Sit back and enjoy the further noir detective adventures of Cullen and Varric!

Greetings, O greatest and most terrifying of editors,

First of all, Bethany sends her thanks for the chocolates. I'm sure you'll get a thank-you note from her yourself (you know how she is) but I figured I'd throw it in here anyway. She's started showing a little, and I think I'm starting to drive her crazy with my fussing. She told me to take my time with this letter.

I've told you in the past couple of years about my students, right? Aurora Norbertson and James Scout, or as I like to call them, Sonnet and Bishop. They write stories about us teachers that are both hilarious and a little absurd, which is par for the course in this place.

Anyway, what I'm sending you is what they handed in as their senior project in my class. It's literally intended as a fan sequel to  _Hard in Hightown_ and honestly, I might not be okay with that after what happened a couple years ago, except that I know these kids and I trust their judgment. Well, as far as I'm concerned, they knocked it out of the park. It's not like those Blighted knockoffs that nutjob wrote; these are legitimately good. I know most of the characters in here, they did just like I do and wrote about people we know but changed the names. They even made me one of the heroes, because they're that smart.

I'm sending this to you (having first let the rest of my colleagues read it out loud in the staff room over the course of a few days, which is what we usually do when they turn in stuff like this) to get your opinion. If you think it's publishable, as I do, then I'm willing to have it produced as an official sequel to my book. That should discourage any further knockoffs - well, I hope - and I can write a foreword or whatever you need that verifies it for the reader.

I haven't told the kids that I'm sending this to you, because I don't want to freak them out too much, but I look forward to hearing what you think.

Best regards,

Varric


	2. The Sapphire Scandal, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric Varras and his new partner, Colin Lyons, are assigned to investigate the murder of a powerful judge in Kirkwall. The judge's mistress reports that his last words were cryptic. What could any of this have to do with a hotly contested political feud between cousins?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of the stories, part one of three. We're looking forward to your reactions!

“You drink too much.” The words were flat and annoyed, though not unfriendly.

Eric Varras glanced up at Captain Hendallen, started to respond, and then shrugged before taking another swig of whiskey. “I’m off duty. I need to clear my head.”

“Seems to me that stuff has the opposite effect,” she retorted.

“You track me down on my day off just to comment on my beverage selection, Captain, or can I do something for you?”

“As a matter of fact, you can.” The captain moved the whiskey bottle to the other side of the table, placing a file folder down in its stead. “Look through this and tell me what you think of him.” She opened the folder and jabbed at the papers inside with her finger. It appeared to be a dossier on a young detective.

Eric peered at the image. “Clean cut. Nice hair. I’m not sure what you’re asking, exactly.”

“I was hoping more for an assessment of his credentials, Varras, not a dating profile.” Not waiting for a response, she summarized the details found within the file herself. “Former military - Fereldan armed forces. Recently rose through the police ranks in Ferelden to become detective before getting transferred here. Needs a partner.”

“And you’re thinking… what? You want to saddle me with the rookie? Or saddle the rookie with me, take your pick, it’s a raw deal in either direction.”

“It’s not a punishment. For either of you. I simply have a sneaking suspicion you two will work well together if you can both play nice. He wants to serve, we want to clean up this city - it seems to me like we can mutually benefit. Besides, Brennokovic’s retirement left a bit of a gap in the detective section, so this is good timing.”

He sighed a little. “All right. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Good answer,” the captain replied. “I was, after all, not exactly _asking_.” Her lips quirking slightly, she gathered up both the file and the bottle of whiskey as she made her way out of the bar with a brisk step.

“Hey! I paid for that!” He declined to give chase, however. _A partner? Seriously? Why me?_ Eric was, and had been for some length of time, persuaded that he did his best work when he was on his own. Professionally or personally, it didn’t matter - he was a solitary bear, a lone wolf, a sock whose mate had been eaten by the dryer of destiny. Now he would have a partner. He couldn’t decide which part of the whole matter annoyed him the most, although for the sake of the new kid, he’d try playing nice (to use the captain’s words). After all, it wasn’t like it was the rookie’s fault.

* * *

 

If Eric had reservations about the rookie, they were nothing compared to the reservations the rookie had about himself as he stepped off the boat and looked around at the city that would be his home. They called this the City of Chains, he knew, but all he wanted it to be was a city to find a fresh start.

Detective Colin Lyons - formerly Captain Lyons of the Fereldan armed forces - was so obviously a lawman he might as well have worn a sign. Everything from his scarred lip to his rigid posture said military or cop, but as he stood at the docks with his meager possessions and ran a hand through his carefully maintained curls, he seemed more like a lost mabari than a new detective. His time in the service had been… trying, and now he fled Ferelden with all possible haste, wanting only to leave. To find a greater purpose in a new duty. Kirkwall seemed as good a place to try as any.

“You Lyons?”

The blonde man turned to find himself confronted with a short, stocky figure, with an oddly impudent smile and a world-weary sort of mien that he could somewhat understand. The other man didn’t wait for a confirmation. “Yeah, you look just like your picture. Name’s Varras, Eric Varras. Captain Hendallen sent me to meet you.”

Colin reached out to shake the other detective’s hand. “It’s good to meet you. I, uh… I see my reputation precedes me - or at least my picture does. I’m not quite sure if that’s a good thing.”

“Sometimes, Curly, things are just things. Anyway, looks like you and I are going to be partners for the time being at least, so the boss lady wanted me to show you around a bit and help you get settled. Unless you’ve already made arrangements for yourself, that is.”

Colin shook his head. “No, no arrangements. I…” He stopped abruptly. “Oh, partners? I didn’t realize… although I suppose it makes sense, seeing as I _am_ the rookie.”

“Trust me, by the time you’re my age you’ll be counting the days until you retire. For my part, that’s currently at 6,135,” Eric added. “That pension better be worth it. Anyway, welcome to the City of Chains. Guess we ought to figure out where you’re crashing before we do anything else - I can recommend a place if you’re not too picky.”

“Soldiers learn not to be.” Colin shrugged. “And until I find somewhere a bit more permanent, beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Keep that in mind as we visit the Hanged Man,” Eric said dryly. “It’s where I live, myself, and I know for a fact there’s a room available. If you’re not too particular about how a place smells, you’ll be fine.”

“About how it _smells_?” Colin repeated, sounding just faintly incredulous. More to himself than anything, he added, “And I thought the voyage over here was bad.”

“Oh, trust me, Curly, you haven’t seen anything yet. First time in Kirkwall?”

He nodded. “First time out of Ferelden, in fact.” He lifted an eyebrow slightly at the nickname. “‘Curly’ because of the hair, is it?”

“A detective is always observant. Habit of mine,” Eric explained. “Everybody in my life gets nicknames except the captain - she scares me too much for that. It’s just something I’ve always done.”

“No, it’s good, I don’t mind. It’s just…” he searched for the words and evidently came up empty. “I don’t mind. Uh… so have you been in the city long?”

“Born and raised here. Merchant family.” Eric started to lead him through the winding streets. “Decided I wanted something different so I poked into law enforcement. Makes for some fun scenes when the bad guys realize that I’m the one arresting them, I’ve had a perp ask more than once if they’re on _Candid Camera_.”

Colin chuckled. “I imagine it gives you a nice element of surprise, though. How long have you been at this now?”

“A couple of lifetimes. I joined the force straight out of college and that was over a dozen years ago.”

“Dedicating your life to the service of others,” said Colin, nodding thoughtfully. “I know the feeling. I respect anyone who undertakes such a thing.”

“I love this city,” Eric replied, somewhat defensively. “More than anybody I know, actually. But make no mistake, the place is a cesspool. I’m just trying to make it a little more habitable for the regular people.”

“Taking responsibility for things that matter when no one else will is what being a detective is all about,” said the younger man, nodding again. “It sounds like you and your people do good work - I’ll be glad to be a part of it.”

“You’re all right.” Eric relaxed into his usual easygoing demeanor. “We’re either going to kick some ass together or drive each other crazy. Possibly both.”

In spite of himself, Colin could not suppress a laugh. “Yes, probably both. But I suspect I’ll look forward to finding out.”

* * *

 

They started on their path to glory or destruction (the jury would remain out for some time) by venturing to the Hanged Man in quest of the vacancy. “Care for a drink first, or the room?” Eric inquired, gesturing almost lazily across the taproom.

“Oh, thank you, but my drink of choice is usually just coffee,” Colin replied, looking around the space as he shouldered his belongings. “So this is… erm… interesting.”

Eric snorted. “I tried to warn you, Curly,” he said, flagging down a passing server. “It’s not much, but the roof usually doesn’t leak and you get used to the stench. Anyway, it’ll keep you off the street for your first couple weeks until you find someplace cleaner.”

“Well, anything’s better than what I came from,” he remarked off-handedly. “I suppose I should report in to the Captain - let her know I’ve arrived. And later I should probably start getting acquainted with the city if I’m to work here.”

“Have a water first. You still look a little bit green around the gills,” Eric advised. “You don’t want the coffee here, trust me - the stuff at the station is a lot more palatable. After we drop in on Captain Hendallen, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Colin managed a little smile. “All right,” he said while accepting the glass of water that was passed to him by the server. “I appreciate that, Detective.”

“Just Eric. Only the perps have to call me Detective.” The older bloodhound knocked back his whiskey and smirked.

“‘Just Eric’ then.” The little smile widened slightly as he took a sip of his own drink. “Either way, I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“I’ll give you the basics of this city,” said Eric, leaning back in his chair. He immediately realized that the noise level of the taproom wouldn’t let him be heard that way, and shifted forward again. “Kirkwall’s got basically four areas. Hightown’s the snooty district. White marble houses, the Chantry, the Viscount’s Keep. In its own way it’s more dangerous than anywhere else. What we’re in right now is called Lowtown, which includes the docks. Just across the harbor is the Gallows, which is the courthouse and the district attorney’s office and that sort of stuff; not usually our area. And then you’ve got Darktown, and the Undercity.” He rolled the ice around in his empty glass, like he was preparing to shoot craps with it. “Years and years ago when this city was some kind of mining escapade, that was basically the sewer system. Now it’s inhabited by rats, and people who wish they had as much money as the rats. A lot of the gangs operate out of the Undercity warrens.”

“Yes, I heard about the gang activity,” Colin replied. “And about some of the corruption. Opposite ends of the spectrum, but same type of thug. As I said before, I look forward to combating it all as best as I can.”

“You’ll be all right. Keep your sidearm close and your bulletproof closer; sometimes that’s the best you can do. You hungry? Not that I recommend eating here, but we can grab something near the station.”

“I could probably stand to eat something, once I’m fully recovered from the trip.” The younger detective rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I… don’t do well with sea travel.”

“No judging here, I don’t either. Can’t stand the rocking or the salt water. Surprised you didn’t fly.”

“I don’t do well with flying either.” He shook his head. “Too claustrophobic. I thought taking a ship would be better, since I could at least go above deck and walk around a bit - and I grew up on a lake, so I thought I could handle it. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“All that matters is that you made it. You have family back in Ferelden?”

“Two sisters and a brother, living in South Reach.” Colin occupied himself with taking a long drink. He hadn’t exactly told his siblings he was leaving Ferelden and he suspected it would be only a matter of time until he received some manner of annoyed correspondence from his eldest sister. “What about you? You said you were born and raised here in a merchant family - any relatives you’re close to?”

“Family is 99% extinct. I have a couple of distant cousins, that’s about it.” Eric shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“It is what it is,” Colin agreed. He finished the contents of the glass and ran a hand over his mouth almost contemplatively. “Well then, I suppose I should see about that room, then you can show me the way to the barracks.”

“Right. Let me introduce you to Ferris, he’ll get you set up with a place to hang your hat.”

* * *

 

Having persuaded the surly white-haired bartender to rent his available room to the younger detective, Eric herded Colin across the street to his car and drove him up to Hightown. “As you can see, the view’s a bit different in this neighborhood.”

“Yes, it certainly is, isn’t it?” Colin said, peering out the window as they passed the mansions and white streets. “I suppose it’s easy to imagine everything’s fine in your city when you’re lucky enough to live like this.”

“You’re not wrong. I spent my formative years in this neck of the woods, that’s the merchant sector over there.” Eric waved a hand toward some large, ancient-looking statues. “I swear I spent more of my childhood in my older brother’s office filing paperwork than I did outdoors. Maybe that’s why I turned my back on the family business - not enough sun.”

“I can relate,” said Colin. “That is, to the whole ‘not enough time outdoors’ part. I’ve been spending entirely too much time holed up indoors here of late.”

“Well, we’ll just have to enjoy traipsing about the town. All right, here we are.” The car pulled into the parking deck of the police barracks attached to the Viscount’s keep. “Captain Hendallen is redheaded death on two legs, and yet somehow manages to be a pretty nice person. Come on, she’s expecting us.”

Sure enough, the captain was waiting for them when they arrived. “Good,” she said as soon as they entered, “you’re both here. Detective Lyons, glad to see you’ve arrived in one piece.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, giving her a respectful nod.

“Curly’s got a room at the Hanged Man and he needs to eat something,” Eric reported. “Promised I’d show him around once you’re done with your inspection. Anything on the desk we need to know about?”

“Oh, the usual - the Carta’s making trouble again, but then again, when _aren’t_ they making trouble?” she noted. “And we have a bit of the usual unrest that comes with election season. I’ll be grateful when the whole thing’s over, honestly.”

“Always am, myself. Between the stupid commercials and the ‘vote for this idiot, not that one’ signs that get left stuck to every open surface in town, this is the worst time of year,” the older detective agreed. “You need us for anything today, though?”

“Just some paperwork on Detective Lyons’s part, but I think that can wait until after you two have done your tour around the city,” she said, looking perhaps just a bit pleased by the fact that they seemed to be getting along. “In the meantime, why don’t you introduce him to the rest of the crew here?”

“Yeah, he might want to have some names to pair with the faces. By the way, where’s my bottle?”

“Try your office. I think it’s with those reports I’m waiting for you to submit.”

“Oh, so you had an ulterior motive in stealing my booze. Good to know.” Eric chuckled and started shuffling out of the room. “Come on, Curly.”

Chuckling slightly to himself, Colin allowed himself to be led through the barracks without complaint. He took in the sight of his new workplace as they walked and nodded in silent appraisal as they entered the break room where some of the other officers were clustered.

“Hey, guys, fresh meat,” Eric called genially.

* * *

 

An hour or so later, Colin had been properly welcomed, Eric had reclaimed his purloined booze, and they were setting off in search of an early supper. “Anything you particularly want to see while we’re touring the city?” he asked.

“The Chantry, for one,” Colin answered almost immediately. “And the closest library, most likely. If I know where those two things are, the rest should fall into place.”

“Chantry is right over this way.” Eric pointed across the square at the bottom of the steps leading to the keep. “The library’s on the other side of Hightown, I’ll take you there. Big reader?”

“When I find the time. I read history as much as I can, usually a lot of Genitivi - it relaxes me. That and chess.”

“Genitivi’s good. I can’t help wondering if he’s ever gone on vacation and not taken notes, but he’s definitely readable. Can’t help you with the chess, though.” Eric paused. “I think Ferris might play, actually. The bartender.”

“Oh, yes? Well, I should at least have a built-in opponent for as long as I’m staying there if nothing else.” He chuckled. “And what about you? What do you do when you’re off duty?”

“Drink. Play cards. Tell wildly exaggerated stories about cases I’ve solved, like the time I recovered the Viscount’s heirloom pantaloons from the belly of a two-headed dragon.”

“If those are the types of cases that cross your desk, I’m quitting immediately,” Colin replied dryly.

Eric laughed. “Not lately,” he promised. “That was when I was still young and idealistic. The good old days, as they call them.”

“You said earlier that you joined the force right after university. Is this what you always wanted to do with your life?”

“Eh… no. But that’s a long story and you haven’t known me long enough for me to inflict that on you.” He shrugged. “Another day.”

“Fair enough,” said Colin, holding up a hand. “I understand that feeling better than anyone.” He paused, sighing, then gave himself a deliberate shake. “So, uh… the library.”

“The library,” Eric agreed, turning the steering wheel. “And food.”

In short order, they arrived at the library and Colin introduced himself to the head librarian, with whom he shared a long, genial chat. Once he was persuaded to leave, he and Eric made their way to a little diner across the way and were installed at a table by the window as they waited for their food.

“So is there anything I should know about this job? About Kirkwall?” Colin asked as he sat nursing a cup of coffee.

“The job will describe itself to you before long.” Eric studied his own coffee cup. “The city… well, it’s harder to put into words. It’s having some dark times. Pretty sure there’s some kind of corruption higher up, although I don’t know who or where or why; it’s just a twitch in my mind. Bottom line, Kirkwall needs us, even if it doesn’t think so.”

Colin nodded thoughtfully, taking a long drink before answering. “It sounds like it won’t be easy, this job - but the things that are worth the most in life usually aren’t, I suppose.”

“Too true, Curly. I think you’ll be all right.” With a small grin, Eric added, “All the same, send a letter home now and again.”

“Probably good advice.” He owed his sister a letter, but even the simple act of putting pen to paper and feigning like everything was fine was increasingly difficult these days. Maybe with some luck, this job would help give him the distance he required and he could follow his new partner’s piece of advice.

* * *

 

Barely two days later, Captain Hendallen had them in her office and looked grim. “We’ve got a mess on our hands, fellas. A nice cryptic one too. Judge Germain died during the night.”

Colin looked to Eric for a reaction. He had been hit with an onslaught of names these past few days and in the short amount of time, only a few had really stuck. Eric caught his glance, and nodded. “That’s the Orlesian transplant, right? One of the more honest butts on the bench.”

“Correct. Well, his death is being regarded as suspicious. He’s been ill for some time,” the captain added, “but he shouldn’t have gone this quickly. We have a message from his mistress that his final words were… odd. She wants a police detail and a full investigation.”

Colin lifted an eyebrow. “His final words were odd?” he repeated. “Odd how?”

“According to Dr. de L’Acier, the judge’s final words were ‘Bring me the heart of Snow White.’ She doesn’t know what it means.”

“‘Bring me the heart of Snow White’?” Eric repeated. “Like the fairy tale? That doesn’t even begin to make sense.”

“Why would a judge quote the Evil Queen from a fairy tale before he died?” Colin mused rhetorically. Then, he gave a little shrug, as if changing topics. “You said his death is being regarded as suspicious. What are we suspecting, poison? I can’t think what else would be that subtle and that quick.”

“That’s what I want you two to find out,” she replied. “Head down to the judge’s house; Dr. de L’Acier is there. Promise her the detail she wants, and I’ll have some of the rank and file join you within the hour. Whatever she knows, we need to know.”

Colin nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Glancing at Eric, he added, “Looks like my first case here is well and truly a mystery, isn’t it?”

“I told you it would be an adventure,” Eric replied. “C’mon, let’s go get the car. Anything else we should know, Captain?”

“Yes. Tread lightly with Dr. de L’Acier. They don’t call her the ‘Iron Lady’ for nothing.”

“Heard a little about her. We’ll be careful, don’t worry.” They walked out to the garage. “Judge Bernard Germain is - _was_ \- one of the only judges in this city that I’d have trusted as far as I could throw him,” he remarked, opening the driver’s side door. “It’s a damn shame.”

“Unfortunately, good men have as many enemies as bad ones do, if not more,” Colin noted, shaking his head. “Do you know much about him or his background?”

“Old noble family out of Orlais. Never did get the straight of why he came here but it doesn’t matter much.” Eric started the engine. “See, we’ve got these feuding cousins, Gaston Charron and Celeste Beaumont. They’re… I don’t know what they are to the Viscount, exactly, but they’re related somehow, and to each other they’re first cousins. They’re both jockeying for the same job - seneschal. The Viscount’s seneschal is his minder, more or less, so whoever has that job has a lot of influence, and they both want it.”

“So two Orlesian cousins both want to be seneschal?” Colin quirked an eyebrow. “What does this have to do with Judge Germain, if anything?”

“There’s no election or anything for the role of seneschal,” Eric explained. “The job comes from a formal appointment by the Viscount, but only after the candidate has been approved by the majority of the city’s sitting judges. Ghislain was neutral, but his girlfriend is a Celeste supporter, which makes me wonder if Gaston had anything to do with this.”

“What, murder a judge because his mistress supports one candidate over another? At that point, wouldn’t bribery be easier? Or intimidation?”

“You know that and I know that, Curly, but these people are all Orlesian. And I am not going to sit here and tell you that I understand how the Orlesian mind works.”

“Well, you have a point there. I suppose we’ll see what Dr. de L’Acier says when we get there. Anything I should know about her, while you’re on the subject of explaining things?”

“I know two things, mainly. One, she’s _not_ Orlesian - she’s a Marcher, originally. Lived in Orlais long enough to pick up an accent,” Eric added, “but not actually Orlesian by birth. Two, she’s a pharmacist, and a damn good one. Operates out of Hightown, though I hear she supplies at least one of the Lowtown clinics with medicines at low cost.”

“Interesting. And it sounds like her relationship with the judge was fairly well known. So… we’re not looking at some kind of ‘crime of passion’ revenge scheme, are we?”

“Unlikely at best. Hopefully she can tell us something useful, because speculating is kind of fun but it doesn’t really get us anywhere.”

“Indeed.”

They arrived at the home of the late judge shortly thereafter - if such a palatial estate could decently be called a “house” - and Colin knocked on the door, identifying himself and Eric as he did so. A moment later, they were ushered into an enormous marble foyer, and an almost terrifyingly elegant woman was descending the staircase.

“My dear detectives, I’m so glad to meet you,” she said. “I am Dr. de L’Acier, and I am in dire need of your assistance. My darling Bernard has gone to the Maker’s side far too soon. I want to know who sent him there.”

“And we want to help,” said Colin, his tone that of an earnest newbie. “The protection detail you requested will be arriving soon, Dr. de L’Acier, but in the meantime, we were hoping to ask you a few questions about the circumstances surrounding the judge’s death.”

“Whatever you need to know, my dear. Come, let us repair to the salon; I’ve ordered a tea service.” She guided them into a formally appointed sitting room which was hung with azure silk curtains and furnished so tastefully, Eric felt like he was walking into a magazine shoot. He was almost afraid to sit on the disturbingly white chair she indicated.

Colin looked likewise hesitant as he sank into a plush settee littered with pillows. “To start, Dr. de L’Acier,” he began, pulling a small notebook and pen from his breast pocket, “do you know of anyone who would want to harm Judge Germain?”

“Not a soul of my acquaintance, I can promise you that.” The pharmacist had a way of occupying her own chair that would make a rickety bench look like an ebony throne. Any second now, representatives of some obscure island nation were going to arrive in search of their missing queen. “Bernard was renowned for his patronage of the arts, his charitable donations, and his generosity as an employer. To know him was to love him.”

“It sounds like this city lost a good man,” Colin said sympathetically. “I am truly sorry for your loss, Doctor.” Eric, who was attempting to sip the cup of tea she had served him, nodded his assent.

“Your kindness is appreciated, Detectives.” She sighed a little. “Maker only knows what Kirkwall will do now. I suppose Judith Stendahl is already making preparations to take Bernard’s place.”

“Yes, about that… the appointment of seneschal is coming up and Judge Germain would have been instrumental in that decision, wouldn’t he?” Colin inquired. “Do you have any reason to suspect this might be politically motivated?”

“My dear, who can say?” Dr. de L’Acier arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “It may indeed be political. It could be the Carta, or the Coterie. But just as readily it could have been someone intending harm to me, which is why I requested the police protection. I hardly know whom I can count as friend or enemy until this is all settled.”

“And what of his last words? _Bring me the heart of Snow White_ … does that have any meaning to you at all?”

“None at all, I’m afraid. I’ve been spending a few hours in the library trying to make sense of it, but beyond the old fairy tale I can find nothing to which he might have been referring. Perhaps he was merely out of his head in his final moments, but it’s so unlike him…” She trailed off, suddenly despondent.

“I’m sure he had some reason,” Colin assured her. “Something he entrusted to you through that phrase. Whatever it may be, we’ll find it. You have my word.”

“You might wish to start with Gaston, my dears. I don’t think he would directly attack Bernard,” she added. “Gaston is actually Bernard’s son-in-law; he was married to poor Carrie Anne, Bernard’s late daughter. They had a mildly contentious relationship, but a respectful one. However, I am a firm friend to Gaston’s cousin Celeste, and Gaston knows it, so he may be… acquainted… with whomever is responsible.”

“Which could play into our suspicions that this had something to do with the upcoming seneschal appointment,” Colin said, addressing himself to Eric.

Eric nodded, putting his dainty little teacup on the tray before it shattered in his hands like dreams he’d long since abandoned. “Definitely sounds like a possibility. Right now we can’t afford to rule out any leads, really.”

“We’ll start there, then. Before we do, Doctor, I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but… do we have any definite word on how the judge died?”

“Asphyxiation. He simply could not breathe,” she replied. “It was as if he were choking, but there was nothing in his mouth or his airway.”

“Terrible way to die,” Colin muttered under his breath, so quietly it was almost inaudible. Clearing his throat, he made a note of the doctor’s words in his booklet. “What would cause that? Poison?”

“Most likely, but it’s not a poison I’ve personally encountered,” said Dr. de L’Acier with a little scowl. “I’m sure I could have saved him, if I had known what the poison was.”

Privately, Colin was a little worried that an unknown poison like this could be wielded like a weapon if they didn’t figure out what it was and quickly. But he kept that concern to himself, glancing at Eric as if wondering if his new partner had similar concerns.

“Well, we’re going to do everything we can to find out what it was,” Eric said, standing. “Your protection detail just pulled up, if I don’t misjudge the sounds outside.”

Sure enough, an unmarked car had parked behind Eric’s; he recognized Riley Knight and Lucy Hardy making their way up to the house. Once they were shown inside, they nodded both to their fellow detectives and to the doctor.

Eric made the introductions. “You couldn’t be in better hands, Dr. de L’Acier, I promise,” he said. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we know anything.”

“And if you think of anything else in the meantime, Riley and Hardy know how to contact us,” Colin added, likewise rising. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“I appreciate all of your hard work, my dears. Do be careful; this city isn’t the safest place for those on the side of justice.”

Colin thanked the doctor, nodded to Riley and Hardy, and gestured for Eric to exit the mansion first. Only once they were outside and on their way to the car did he speak again. “So what do you think? Are we starting with Gaston and his people?”

“Gotta start somewhere,” Eric replied, “and that seems like as good a spot as any. We can approach it like we want to see if he knew of any enemies his father-in-law had; there might have been some the doc didn’t know.”

“Right.” Colin nodded, then paused. “I’ll admit I’m concerned about what this poison is - and about what the judge’s death will do to the city. From the sound of things, chaos was barely held at bay. Losing an honorable judge opens all sorts of doors for this city’s villains.”

“You’re not wrong. I’m half concerned about what the poison is, and half concerned about how it was administered,” Eric added, sliding behind the steering wheel. “If a judge with decent home security can be poisoned so stealthily that his girlfriend, a _pharmacist_ , doesn’t know how it happened or what they used, then it could happen to anyone in Kirkwall.”

“My thoughts exactly. I mean, look at this neighborhood - if the judge didn’t stand a chance, I can hardly imagine what odds the rest of the populace has.” He shook his head. “Perhaps it’s just an isolated incident, but I’m not going to take that chance.”

“Neither am I. Let me think… Gaston is a retired military man. If memory serves, he teaches a history elective at the local community college; we could probably find him there.”

“A military man who knows history?” Colin remarked. “Maker’s breath, if he weren’t our chief suspect at the moment, he sounds like someone I would actually get along with.”

“Probably true,” Eric agreed. “Come on, let’s get a little coffee and wait for classes to be over for the morning.”

* * *

 

They did just that, fetching coffee at the little corner shop that served the campus. With this accomplished, they made their way back outside to a bench near the main building to watch the comings and goings. At last, when the flow of people seemed to suggest a lull in classes, they made their way inside. “Excuse me,” Colin said, stopping one of the students. “We’re looking for Gaston Charron. Can you point us in the right direction?”

She pointed at a building across the campus. “He holds classes in the humanities building, just over there. But I’m not sure if he’s here today, I heard something about a family emergency.”

“Hmm, I see. Thank you.” He waited until the student departed before turning to Eric. “That’s interesting. I can’t help but wonder if this potential absence is out of concern and grief, or something more.”

“Could be six of one and half a dozen of the other, too,” Eric noted. “Let’s see if anybody can confirm his absence for us; the administration building is over there.”

They made their way there next, where a bored looking file clerk looked barely interested in giving them the time of day as Colin asked the question. “Messere Charron has taken a personal day,” she replied, almost distractedly. “I’m not at liberty to give out any other information.”

At once, Colin slid his badge across the desk. “Are you certain, ma’am? I’m afraid it really can’t wait.”

“Look, I don’t know what else to tell you. He’s not here.” She paused, and sighed. “You might try his sister’s house. Lylia Charron. She has a place outside Kirkwall.”

“Do you have an address for this sister?”

“No, but that’s why the Maker invented search engines. More than that I can’t really tell you.” She gave him a very dry look. “You’re a detective. Try doing some detecting.”

Colin glanced at Eric. “Is everyone in the city this friendly or is today just our lucky day?” he remarked flatly.

“Welcome to Kirkwall, Curly.” They left the building, and Eric snorted. “Hate to be the one to tell you this, but the odds are strong that on any given day, I’m the nicest person you’ll meet.”

Colin couldn’t help but chuckle. “I suppose that’s the lot of every law enforcement officer’s life - we aren’t exactly a popular breed. I just look at it as an indication we’re doing our jobs well.”

“That, and at this point, Kirkwall’s seen so much garbage that people pretty much ignore everything anymore unless it affects them personally.”

“It’s a shame, but not surprising.” He shrugged slightly. “Ah, well. Let’s see if we can find this sister. There can’t be too many people named ‘Lylia Charron’ running around Kirkwall.”

“I don’t know much about her. She kind of keeps out of the political limelight,” Eric noted as they started back to the car. “I do know that she and her brother are very tight, though. Doubt we’ll get to see much of him without going through her.”

“Well then, all the more reason to find her.” Colin’s phone was already in his hand to call the station and get the information that would take them to their next lead. Dispatch provided him with an address, and they were soon on their way out of Kirkwall proper.

* * *

 

Lylia Charron had a relatively modest manor in the countryside near Sundermount. She, along with her brother and cousin, was descended from the ancient royal houses of Orlais, and it showed in every inch of her property, sort of the way a snake is recognizable as a snake no matter which bit of it you’re studying. A grove of lime trees welcomed the detectives onto the estate, with the house itself looming in the near distance.

“You ever get the feeling you’re walking into a particularly elaborate trap, Curly?” Eric asked, bringing the car to a halt.

“Yes. Yes, I imagine it feels just like this,” he said at length, glancing around with something like trepidation. “I’ll admit I don’t like this at all.”

“‘I don’t like this’? That’s right up there with ‘what could possibly go wrong?’” Eric retorted. He chuckled, however. “Just… keep your eyes open. We don’t want to look like predators _or_ prey.”

Colin nodded, and busied himself with smoothing his tie. “Right. I don’t have much patience for nobility, but I will certainly do my best.”

“Well, that’s something we have in common. I’m pretty good at faking it, though, so if you’d rather, I can do most of the talking.”

“That might be for the best,” the younger detective agreed as they emerged from the car and took the long pathway up to the manor.

At once, they were greeted by a butler who, despite not being in Orlais, was keeping up the Orlesian custom of wearing an elaborate ornamental mask. Colin held up his badge, and the butler eyed it somewhat askance.

“We’re looking for Gaston Charron,” said Eric, in his best attempt at a pleasant tone. “We were told he might be here?”

“Messere Charron is within, yes,” said the butler, sounding slightly dubious. “He is with his sister. Who should I say is here to see them?”

“Detectives Varras and Lyons of the Kirkwall police department. It’s about his father-in-law.”

“Ah, yes, of course. A simply dreadful business. I’m sure His Grace will be glad to assist in any way he can. If you’ll both follow me.”

He led them through the corridors of the manor, the walls of which were lined with gilded portraits of past Charron nobility and their royal links. At last, he gestured for them to stop as he knocked on the door to a large sitting room and announced the detectives by name. He then turned and held out his hand, indicating they could enter.

Although it was Gaston they sought, it was Lylia who greeted them. “Detectives,” she said, her tone deliberately sweet, “I am Lylia Charron. Welcome to my estate. I would assume you are here to discuss the death of my brother’s dear father-in-law.”

“We are, Your Grace,” Eric replied politely. “I’m sure the whole matter has been a difficult one for everyone involved. We’d like to resolve it as quickly as possible, to spare anyone additional grief. Is your brother available?” He looked her over thoughtfully; he’d never seen someone who so closely resembled a porcelain doll.

“Gaston will be joining us shortly,” she promised. “In the meantime, do please make yourselves comfortable.” She gestured to the two chairs that sat across from her own. “Can we get you anything while you wait? A drink, perhaps?”

“I’m fine, thank you. My partner could use a glass of water, if you wouldn’t mind.” Colin said nothing, but didn’t look like he objected in the slightest.

“Of course.” Lylia nodded to the butler, who was still standing close at hand. He returned the nod and disappeared. “Gentlemen, I am glad you’re here - Bernard’s death comes at a time of great contention. My beloved brother and dear cousin are both locked in political battle at the moment, as I’m sure you know, so what happened to the judge is of great concern.”

“Yes, that’s one of the angles we’re considering. While we’re waiting for your brother, perhaps you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions yourself,” said Eric. He nodded discreetly at Colin, silently urging his partner to take notes. “Were you well acquainted with the judge?”

“Well, he _was_ Gaston’s father-in-law. I knew him well enough,” she said, pausing briefly when the butler returned to hand Colin his water glass. Colin nodded his thanks, sipped from the glass, and set it aside in order to resume his notes. “He was a good man,” Lylia continued, “although he committed the great sin of being politically neutral. I know that sin well.”

“ _You’re_ politically neutral?” said Colin, breaking his silence. “You aren’t supporting your brother?”

“I am my brother’s biggest supporter in all things,” she replied. “But when it comes to this feud with our cousin Celeste…” She shook her head, then studied Colin thoughtfully. “You are from Ferelden, Detective, are you not? I can tell by your accent. Tell me, how much do you know of Gaston and Celeste’s battle or the political situation in Kirkwall?”

“I know enough,” he replied, glancing at Eric.

“Then you know there can be no winner, not truly. The city is already divided, you can feel it on the streets - and there is no better place for the Carta to make problems than in a city set aflame by politics. I want to stop their machinations as much as anyone. As for Judge Germain’s... untimely death, I believe the three of us” - she gestured between the detectives and herself - “are all concerned about the same thing.”

“You think he was murdered?” Colin inquired.

“I am not a detective, Detective,” she replied, her lips quirking slightly. “Nor am I omniscient. But I do know one thing - this may not be Orlais, but we are Orlesian, and to us, nothing happens by accident. I truly believe the security of the city is at stake, and none of us wish to see it fall.”

Colin glanced at Eric again, just slightly alarmed by the ominous tone of Lylia’s words. “If seneschal is a position appointed by the Viscount, how can it be dividing the city that much?” the younger detective inquired. “It’s not like the people are voting for it themselves.”

“True. But that doesn’t mean Celeste and Gaston don’t each have their very fervent supporters and donators - supporters who might do just about anything to see their candidate win the day.” Lylia shook her head. “There are many anxious to see whether Celeste’s diplomacy or Gaston’s jingoism will be what gets the Viscount’s ear. That includes many members of the Kirkwall nobility, who wield their power and influence well. Many of them are Orlesian as well and they play the Game just as hard here as they would in Orlais. After all, the Game knows no borders. Do not underestimate just how dangerous this situation could become, Detective Lyons.”

“In my experience,” Eric put in wryly, “that’s wise advice in just about every situation. The City of Chains isn’t exactly the calmest spot in the Free Marches. If you don’t mind my asking, Miss Charron, don’t you work in the Gallows? I’m almost positive I’ve seen you there.”

“I do. I am one of the district attorneys,” she replied. “Not as glamorous as my brother’s decorated military career or Celeste’s diplomacy, but I’m good at what I do.”

“Hey, glamour is overrated,” Eric replied with a charming smile. “Sometimes the most important work gets done behind the scenes. Trust me, I understand that. I don’t suppose there was anything being said in the Gallows that related to the judge, was there? Even the most inconsequential bit of gossip might be a clue.”

“Aside from speculation as to who he might support, there was nothing. Everyone loved Bernard.”

“That’s the impression we got in our previous interview too.” He shook his head. “When do you think your brother will be able to speak with us? I know he’s… taking it hard, and we don’t want to intrude any more than necessary.”

Lylia nodded and addressed her next remark to the butler. “Philippe, would you be so kind as to check on Gaston and see when he might be joining us? We don’t want to waste the good detectives’ time.”

Philippe bowed and left the room. “And strictly for the sake of being thorough,” Eric continued, “if you’ll pardon the inquiry, Miss Charron - where were you last night?”

“Of course. I know how this all goes.” She smiled. “I had a bit of an early night, so I was in bed for most of the evening. Both Philippe and Gaston can confirm that.”

Eric nodded at Colin, who made a note. Philippe, meanwhile, returned shortly. “The master will be with you in a moment. He’s just making a condolence call to Laurence Germain.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “I must make time to do that myself as well.” To the detectives, she added, “I’m sure he won’t be long. While we wait, is there anything else I can do for you both?”

“Thank you, but I think we’re all right.” Eric handed her his card. “If you should happen to hear or think of anything that might help, please give us a call.”

“I most certainly will,” she promised, standing. “I wish you every good luck, detectives. I fear you may need it.”

Privately, Eric feared she might be right. He and Colin stood as well, and as Lylia’s brother entered the room, she introduced him. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said, departing gracefully.

“Detectives, I appreciate you looking into this.” Gaston Charron seemed genuinely rattled, or at least as much as an Orlesian was capable of looking genuinely anything. “It’s a terrible loss, for my family and for the Marches. Please, how can I assist?”

Colin made the introductions, studying the soldier turned professor. “We can imagine how difficult this all must be,” he said as they resumed their seats. “Right now, we’re doing our best to establish all the facts. We keep hearing that your father-in-law was well loved, but given the current political climate, of course we have to ask if he had any enemies.”

“Naturally. But I can tell you - Bernard never had an enemy in his life.” Gaston shook his head. “Even people who could have had a reason to dislike him, such as my cousin, regarded him with respect and admiration. I cannot begin to point fingers; I know of no one to suggest.”

“What about people involved in this current election? It sounds like shaky political ground on all sides - could that have something to do with it?”

Gaston hesitated. “It is possible. I can give you one name, detectives. It may be related, it may not; I cannot say for certain, and my code of honor forbids me from too much speculation. But there is a woman - Briana Felassan. She was once my cousin’s campaign manager, until a scandal, and I believe she harbors animosity toward us both. Whether she would stoop to murdering the good judge, I do not know. But you may wish to look into her as a possibility.”

Colin made a note of this. “Do you have any idea where we might find this Ms. Felassan now?”

“She’s gone into journalism, and writes shocking things about people in various positions of power. You’ll likely find her dredging the Undercity for new material, as those are the only people who read her drivel.”

Colin finished writing and glanced at Eric. “Even if she isn’t directly involved, she may have some information we wouldn’t otherwise find. Seems like a lead worth chasing.”

“I agree,” said Eric with a nod. “Is there anything else you can tell us, serah?”

“Only this. I hesitate to trouble Dr. de L’Acier at such a time,” said Gaston. “But Bernard, as you know, was my father-in-law, and he still had in his possession a few items belonging to my late wife. I made no objection to this - she _was_ his daughter - and most are mere trinkets, but there is a silver letter opener set with a large sapphire. I gave it to Carrie Anne on our first wedding anniversary, and it was mistakenly given to Bernard after her death. If nothing else, I would appreciate having that returned to me.” He shrugged lightly. “I realize this falls outside of the scope of your duties, but if you sense it would be a good time to mention it to the kindly doctor, your help would be welcomed. It would be valuable, I think, for you to have me owe you a favor, and I would certainly feel that way on the return of such a keepsake.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he nodded after a moment. “We’ll see what we can do,” he said. “I make no promises, you understand.”

“Of course. I only mention it because both Carrie Anne and Bernard are attached to it in my mind,” he noted. “In light of his death, it becomes of greater importance. His estate will go to Laurence, as is proper, and I don’t doubt he left something to Dr. de L’Acier as well, so the return of this letter opener is really my only request.”

“Understood. Well, we won’t take up any more of your time today. If you have anything else that comes to mind, your sister has my partner’s card - don’t hesitate to call us.”

“Thank you, detectives. I pray you are successful in your search.”

Colin gave another nod. “And good luck with this coming election,” he replied, getting to his feet. “We’ll be in touch.”


	3. The Sapphire Scandal, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric and Colin continue their investigation. It's starting to look a little weirder than they expected.

Philippe showed the detectives out, and as they walked to the car, Eric heaved a sigh. “Well, Curly, we’re putting you through your paces,” he said. “You make heads or tails of this thing yet?”

“Honestly? The less I understand about the Game, the better.” Colin likewise sighed. “It sounds like our victim is one of the most loved people in Kirkwall. Part of me would almost wonder if this whole thing was accidental if it weren’t for the election also going on.”

“The election _could_ be a red herring,” said Eric, in a tone that said he was as likely to believe that as he was to start tap dancing in the middle of the street. “It could be that the whole thing was a botched robbery or something. It’s not likely, but it’s not entirely impossible. Maybe we should check in with Dr. de L’Acier’s security detail, see if there have been any developments.”

“That’s not a bad idea. If nothing else, perhaps she’ll know about this journalist Gaston mentioned.”

“You need to stop for coffee or anything on the way? I’m kind of hungry, myself, we’ve been out longer than I realized.” Eric nodded at his watch.

“I wouldn’t say no,” he admitted. “All this politicking is giving me a headache.”

“Can’t argue. There’s a decent sandwich shop a couple streets over from HQ,” said his partner. “We’ll hit that and drop in on the captain, see if she can get someone to start digging up some stuff on this Felassan lady, and then head back to Dr. de L’Acier.”

“Fair enough. While we’re at it, maybe we should see about that letter opener.” He huffed slightly. “I didn’t care for Gaston’s remark about favors, I’ll say that.”

“That’s how they talk, in Orlais. He and his cousin might be transplants, but they still play that sodding Game.” Eric shrugged. “Anyway, much as I hate to admit it, he’s not entirely wrong. It’s possible that having him owe us a little favor could come in handy at some point. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

“I don’t object to making deals to get information - it’s an unfortunate reality for any officer. But when it comes to Orlesians, where does it end?”

“Who knows if it even does. They say their Grand Game isn’t as deadly as it used to be, but I don’t know if I believe that.”

“Neither do I. Accident or not, the judge’s death proves that, I think, as does this political unrest.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Well, however far this may go, Judge Germain deserves justice and the city deserves answers.”

“That idealism of yours is going to get you into trouble someday.” Eric looked only amused, however. They drove to the sandwich shop, and his stomach rumbled irritably as he studied the offerings. “They slice the turkey as thick as the fog on a spring morning. Don’t know why people rave about thinly-sliced meats when you can have that.”

Colin couldn’t help but chuckle at the analogy. “It does sound tempting, but I’m not very hungry. I think coffee is all I need, perhaps something sweet. Yes, I know, I’m playing to stereotypes.” His lips quirked a little.

“They don’t serve doughnuts here, Curly.” Eric chuckled. “Come on, you need something more substantial. How about the soup and half special? Only half a sandwich and a cup of soup. The captain will have my hide if you do something dumb like collapse.”

The younger detective held up his hands. “All right, all right, fair enough. I think I can be convinced to have some soup at least. Do you always take care of your people like this?”

“To be completely honest, yes. It’s one of my biggest weaknesses as a detective.” Eric placed the food order and they took a table by the window. “I always end up worrying about my informants’ families and whether the orphans in Darktown have enough to eat.”

“I know they say detectives should be as impartial as possible, but personally I would rather care about the work I’m doing. Too many people in this world don’t care about anything other than themselves.”

“You’re speaking my language. I like to think I’m as selfish as the next guy, but too many people have died in this city. I’ve almost been one of them on more than one occasion. I don’t have it in me to walk away from that.”

Colin nodded, his features somewhat somber and unreadable. “I understand. Or, at any rate, I can relate. As far as understanding, it might serve me well to learn a bit more about how this city operates as we go.”

“You’re a smart guy, you’ll pick it up fast. Shortest form, though, do your best not to trust much of anybody outside the force.” Eric grimaced a bit. “Way too many people in the city are willing to screw over anybody in order to get ahead. It’s usually born of desperation rather than actual malice, but that doesn’t make it better.”

“No, if anything that makes it worse. People with nothing to lose are the most dangerous.” He sighed.

“You’re not wrong.” Their order came up and Eric retrieved it from the counter, dropping a couple bills into the tip jar. “Here we go. Chow down.”

Colin nodded his thanks and began picking at the cup of tomato soup before him. While he did so, he pulled out his phone and occupied himself by tapping at the screen for a few minutes. His eyes shifted as he read whatever he had been in search of, then slowly widened. “I thought it might do us some good to see just what kind of articles this Briana turns out,” he explained. “Gaston wasn’t wrong - some of these read like hit pieces more than any sort of journalism.” He turned his phone towards Eric.

Eric peered at the phone. “Damn. A real poison pen, huh? Maybe we _do_ need to check into her. We’ll give the captain a head’s up.”

“If nothing else, I’m curious to hear just what this scandal is that got her removed from her position as Celeste’s campaign manager. It’s a start.”

“Could be something in the files. Captain will know.” Eric took a bite out of his sandwich, thinking. “Hopefully this starts making sense, and soon.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

* * *

With lunch concluded, the two detectives made the short sojourn back to the station to brief Captain Hendallen on what scant information they had.

“I know it’s not much to go on,” Colin said in conclusion. “But perhaps it may help us eliminate a few suspects. Right now, it feels like our perp could be anyone and no one.”

“That was the impression I was getting myself,” she replied, nodding. “All right. I’ll have the archive guys look into that Briana scandal. You two head over to see Dr. de L’Acier. Find out if the judge was working on anything when he died - ask if you can look at his files, or his computer, or something. We’ll get a warrant if we need it, but it can’t hurt to ask.”

“Yes, ma’am. I think the doctor will be cooperative, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Is there anything else we need to know?”

The captain shook her head. She looked a little frazzled - more than usual. “Just tread carefully. This situation may be more delicate than it appears, and your partner is about as subtle as a sledgehammer.”

“Hey,” Eric protested mildly. “I can be _very_ subtle when the situation calls for it. It’s part of my charm.”

Colin couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “You were certainly better at talking to Gaston and his sister than I was. Between the two of us, we should be able to each keep the other on careful footing.”

“I’m counting on it,” said the captain with a chuckle. “Go on, then. And if she offers any pharmaceutical samples, ask her if she’s giving out painkillers.”

“Only if I don’t use them first,” Colin replied. “The Game makes my head hurt.”

“You and me both, Curly. Tell you what, Captain – when this is all over, I’m buying the drinks,” said Eric.

“I may just hold you to that, Varras,” she said, managing a bit of a smile as the detectives prepared to set off again.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when they were shown in to see Dr. de L’Acier once again. “Has everything been all right?” Eric asked her. “Any troubles?”

“None at all, my dear,” she assured him. “Detective Hardy has been doing her job exceptionally well. What about you? Were you able to speak to Gaston?”

“We were. He’s very… upset,” Eric noted truthfully. “He gave us a little information, but he agreed with what you said about how everyone loved the judge and he didn’t have any enemies as far as he knew. We were wondering if the judge might have been working on anything when he died, if there were any files or a computer we could examine.”

“Of course. You are more than welcome to search anything in his office, although I fear you may not have much luck with his computer - it’s password protected and even I don’t know the code. But if it helps the investigation, you can certainly try.”

“If it wouldn’t be inconvenient, we could take the computer back to headquarters and work on it there. We have some tech guys who might know how to bypass the password.”

“Absolutely. I’ll fetch it for you before you go,” she promised. “Bernard was very private about some elements of his work, so sadly there are some things to which I was not privy, even knowing him as I did. Believe me, I regret that I cannot be of more help.”

“It’s quite all right, ma’am. You’re being as helpful as you can be at such a difficult time, and we appreciate it.” He gave her what was meant to be a charming smile.

“You are helping get justice for my darling Bernard,” she said. “The least I can do is cooperate. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll retrieve his laptop for you.”

“Usually,” Eric remarked to Colin after she left the room, “when they’re this helpful, it’s some kind of a red flag. But this lady’s too much on the up and up; my BS meter says this is all legit. It’s a nice change of pace.”

“Agreed. And it’s clear she genuinely cared for the judge. I can’t imagine she would hide anything that could help us get to the truth, much less be involved herself. At least that’s one person off the list.”

“Yeah, it narrows things down slightly. At this point, any advantage is a good one.” Eric sighed. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us, kid. I don’t know a whole lot about computers except how to play Minesweeper.”

“Neither do I. But I’m sure between the two of us and the tech department, we’ll figure something out.” He fell silent then as Dr. de L’Acier returned with the device in question.

“Here you are, my dears. As I said, don’t hesitate to search the office or request anything else you might need from me.”

“We’ll get this back right away,” said Eric, taking the laptop a bit gingerly. “Oh - there was one other thing, if it’s not too much trouble? Gaston said something about a silver letter opener that belonged to Bernard’s daughter, that he gave it to her for their anniversary. If you get a chance to find it, he’d really like to have it back. No rush, he knows you have a lot to do.”

Veronique furrowed her perfect brows for a moment in contemplation before nodding. “Oh, I know the one, of course. I’ll see if I can find it at some point.”

“As I said, no hurry. You’ve got plenty on your plate. He also sent you his regards and condolences,” Eric added. “We’ll be in touch. Thank you again.”

She inclined her head slightly. “I am always happy to help. I’ll see you out, my dears.”

With the sleek black laptop sealed in an evidence bag like some kind of kidnapped baby, the detectives headed back to HQ for a fresh pot of coffee and some password deducing. “The tech guys are probably done for the day,” Eric noted, “but we can try picking at it ourselves - knock out the most obvious passwords, if nothing else.”

“Well, the doctor’s name and the judge’s children’s names, as well as any important dates would probably fall under that definition,” Colin remarked. “Birthdays, anniversaries, and the like. But if this is his work computer, as Dr. de L’Acier seemed to imply it was, I imagine he wanted to keep it as private as possible. Although I’ll admit I wonder what a judge was working on that necessitated such privacy.”

“Yeah, what could he need to keep secret even from his mistress? If we get into this thing and find anything that tarnishes the guy’s reputation, it could either break the case wide open or make it that much more difficult for us. Or both, somehow.”

“That’s a worrisome notion. From what I’ve seen so far, I don’t know if this city could afford to not only lose one of its idols, but see that idol’s legacy run through the mud.” He shook his head. “But one battle at a time. We have to get into the thing first; until then, this is all just idle speculation.”

“And idol speculation,” Eric deadpanned. “You made a pun and didn’t even know it.”

Colin paused as if considering this. “I suppose I did,” he said, laughing a bit. “Well, either idol or idle, I’m more interested in facts than speculation. Sadly, you can’t have one without the other in our line of work, I know, but hopefully we can get more facts soon.”

“Keep that positive attitude. I need the counterbalance.”

The younger detective laughed again. “I’ll do my best.”

A positive attitude was certainly necessary, as for the better part of the next forty-five minutes they made attempts at guessing the judge’s password to no avail. They used everything they had been able to learn or had access to regarding the judge’s life and personal habits, but nothing seemed to point to a password. After they had exhausted everything they could think of, Colin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck almost thoughtfully.

“Not to engage in some of that idle speculation we were talking about, but I’ll admit something keeps rattling around in my head,” he said at last. “What if the information on this laptop relates either to the election or one of the city’s gangs? If either of these things is true, who might be able to give us more information?”

“Well, Dr. de L’Acier might be able to answer a few basic questions,” Eric mused. “Depending on what this information is, Captain Hendallen would probably know where to turn next for answers. Failing that, we might have to throw darts at a map of the city and strike blindly.”

“Where is that place Gaston mentioned as Briana’s haunt? The Undercity?”

“Through Darktown. Like I told you before, the Warrens used to be the sewer system of Kirkwall,” Eric explained. “We’ve got better plumbing these days, thank the Maker, so most of the Warrens are dried up and used for either crime or homeless shelters. It’s a real cheerful place.”

“It sounds it.” He grimaced. “It also doesn’t sound like a place where the law is very welcome, but maybe we should start there. After all, where better to hide secrets than in a place where the law doesn’t reach?”

“Can’t argue.” The older detective looked at his watch. “Not a place I relish visiting at night, however. Think we should call it a day and head back to the Hanged Man for some sleep. We can get a fresh start in the morning.”

“Fair enough. In the meantime, I’d like to do some research on the judge’s last words and on some of the other people in his life. Maybe try to find some new avenues to tread.”

“What I hear you saying is that I should drop you off at the library.” Eric chuckled. “Yeah, all right, we’ll swing by there for a couple hours.”

“Oh, don’t lose sleep on my account. I’m sure I can find my way back when I’m finished.”

“Best not. Remember what I told you about Hightown being more dangerous in some respects? That doubles after nightfall.” His partner shook his head. “Besides, two pairs of eyes will see more.”

“Again, fair enough. I promise I won’t be too long - just long enough to get started. I’m not holding out much hope, I’ll admit, but it’s worth a try.”

“Can’t argue. They’re only open for a few more hours anyway, it’s later than it seems. We should be able to get back to the Hanged Man before they stop serving supper - but friendly advice, if it’s stew, you’re better off going hungry. Nobody knows what the meat is.”

“That doesn’t give me a lot of confidence,” Colin replied. He chuckled briefly, however, and gathered up his coat as they made their way to the door.

* * *

By the time the librarians shooed them out a few hours later, the detectives had a pretty decent understanding of a couple of things - how Gaston’s wife Carrie Anne had died, the background of the rivalry between the cousins, and more of Bernard’s personal biography. “All fascinating, but I’m not sure any of it’s going to help,” Eric mused, fiddling with the steering wheel. “It can’t hurt, though. At least now you see some of this Game nonsense and how it operates.”

“Just what I always wanted,” Colin said dryly. “But I do agree - it can’t hurt, especially since I suspect this will all prove to go deeper than we thought.”

“Why can’t we ever get straightforward cases?” Eric wondered. “Something nice and simple. Just once, for variety, I’d like something to be open and shut.”

“I would like to see that myself. But until then, I suppose we just do our best to muddle through. Tomorrow we’ll see what we can find in Darktown and the Undercity - at least we have a plan if nothing else.”

“Right. Come on, let’s grab some takeout on the way back to the Hanged Man, I don’t want to risk having to choose between stew and hunger.”

“Good plan. Just not Orlesian takeout, all right?” The corners of his lips twitched.

Eric laughed. “I knew I liked you, kid.”

With non-Orlesian takeout firmly in hand, they made their way back to the Hanged Man for the night to get some rest. Colin, who usually had trouble sleeping anyway, spent most of the evening poring over the books he had taken from the library as well as any information he could find online regarding the city’s various Orlesian transplants. By the time he was finished, the prospect of the Undercity almost seemed like a blessing. Almost.

* * *

Eric knocked almost inhumanly early, or at least that’s how it felt to him, like he’d gone in search of a fellow worm to help him avoid the early bird. “Make sure you have your bulletproof,” he reminded Colin, “and don’t make any sudden moves down there. The less attention we attract, the better our chances of getting out without a confrontation.”

“Should we have backup on standby?” he inquired as he located both bulletproof vest and gun. “Just in case something does end up going sideways?”

“Yeah, a couple of the flatfoots are already within shouting distance,” Eric assured him. “But we can’t take an entourage, the Carta might perceive it as a threat or something and that’s a great way to die in a hail of gunfire. Provided they weren’t involved in this themselves, they won’t object to us coming in and asking a couple questions, so let’s hope they weren’t.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed if it helps and I’ve said quite a few prayers. I’m ready when you are.” Privately, as he holstered his gun at his waist, he found his fingers slipping into his pocket where a coin - his sort of lucky talisman - rested, as if reminding himself of its reality or trying to siphon off some of its luck for the task ahead.

“Well, it’s a short walk from here to Darktown, and from there the Undercity awaits us with open arms. Just try not to get hugged too tightly.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said as he finished gathering his things. He left almost everything of any value behind as they departed, making their way through the early morning in search of their destination.

A little discreet bribery of some of the impoverished Undercity denizens soon had them pointed in the right direction, and rather earlier than he had hoped, Eric found himself looking at his quarry. “Briana Felassan?” he asked, showing his badge. “Detectives Varras and Lyons. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Fancy meeting you here. Leave it to the law to show up in a place like this only when they need something,” she replied, snorting a bit. She was a lithe woman, her skin a bit tanner than most of the highbrow folks and freckled, suggesting she was out in the sun frequently, likely to chase her stories. She watched them with a sort of glinting, curious gaze, sizing them up. “So what is it this time? Another noble claiming defamation of character?”

“Nothing quite so glamorous, I’m afraid. We’re investigating the murder of Judge Bernard Germain,” Eric explained, “and your name came up during one of our initial interviews as someone whose ear stays close to the ground. We thought you might be able to give us some information which could aid the investigation.”

“That all depends, I think. If you suspect the Carta may be to blame, for instance, I’m afraid I can’t help you - not my area of expertise. But if you suspect the upcoming seneschal appointment may have something to do with it, then I may be able to come up with something.”

“We think it could certainly be related.” Eric nodded. “What can you tell us about the major players?”

“More like what can’t I tell you? I’ve had people gathering information on Celeste and Gaston for months. Anything I didn’t already know myself, I had them find for me. I pride myself on knowing everything I can.”

“Is that a professional decision or a personal one?” Colin interjected.

Briana smirked at him. “Impartial journalism is overrated. At any rate, tell me what you already know and I’ll see if I can fill in any gaps.”

“Not very much that we can discuss, anyway,” said Eric. “The judge was murdered at his home. Our intel hasn’t pointed to a specific suspect at this time, but we’re trying to cover all the bases. Can we first ask where you were the night before last?”

She chuckled faintly. “There’s the question I was waiting for. I was here in the Undercity with a half dozen of my information-gatherers. You can ask any of them. Although I’ll admit I haven’t heard from a few of them since then.” She frowned briefly. “You can also ask the newspaper I work for if you don’t believe their word. I was here on assignment.”

Eric made a note of it. “It’s a formality, as I’m sure you understand. Now, what can you tell us about Gaston Charron and his relationship to his father-in-law?”

“By all accounts, Gaston got along quite well with his wife’s family. However, Bernard was also a judge and Gaston is a bully, little better than a petulant child. If he had reason to suspect things weren’t going his way in this election, who knows what he might do?” She shrugged. “Although stooping to murder might be desperate and low even for him,” she allowed.

“And what about Celeste Beaumont? We understand you used to work for her.”

Briana’s lips folded as she ran her teeth across her bottom lip. “Yes. I was her campaign manager when this whole thing started. Many consider her a great voice of reason, but reason looks for compromise - it doesn’t choose radical change, however sorely it may be needed.” Almost absently, she reached to her neck, her fingers trailing over a heart-shaped locket that rested in the hollow of her throat. “There are those who view her diplomacy as complacency, but she can play the Game with the best of them, make no mistake.”

Eric tried not to let his eyebrow twitch at the sight of the locket. “I’ve heard as much. Do you think she would, as you put it, stoop to murder in order to help her case?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “If we were talking about a cover up or a character assassination, I wouldn’t put it past her, but an _actual_ assassination… I don’t know,” she repeated, shaking her head. “But then again, I didn’t know her as well as I thought.”

“In all of your fact-finding, have you ever come across anything that suggested the judge had any enemies? Anyone who had a problem with one of his past court cases, or anything like that?”

“Nothing to speak of. Most of the notable things about Bernard Germain happened _adjacent to_ him, not _directly to_ him. For instance, I trust you know what happened to his daughter, Gaston’s wife Carrie Anne?”

“We do. Ghastly affair,” Eric observed. “Did Celeste ever talk to you about it?”

“Of course. It would have been difficult to avoid the subject - Carrie Anne Charron was responsible for the death of both of her parents which was, in some ways, the thing that jumpstarted Celeste’s entry into politics and diplomacy. She spoke of her parents often.”

“I can only imagine that must have been traumatic for her. We did find something a little odd, though,” said Eric. “The official report stated that Roland Beaumont died of asphyxiation, probably from an allergic reaction. But you’re telling us it was Madame Charron?”

Briana smiled mirthlessly. “When it comes to the Game, never believe the official report, detectives. Roland Beaumont was poisoned, although I don’t know how she managed it - not even Celeste knew how.”

“He was poisoned?” Colin repeated.

The journalist nodded. “Far be it from me to tell you how to do your jobs, but it might benefit you to follow that particular thread.”

“It’s definitely something to consider,” said Eric, scribbling. “Now the big question - what’s the deal with these cousins? It seems like there’s a lot of bad blood there beyond this seneschal appointment, especially if Gaston’s wife was responsible for Celeste’s parents dying.”

“Beyond just that, this feud has been going on for the better part of two decades.” She sighed. “Gaston’s whole life had been spent preparing for politics - as far as the Charrons were concerned, the man should be Viscount by now, if not much, much more. Instead, he’s locked in a hotly contested battle with his much younger cousin who was never expected to enter politics in the first place. I have trouble imagining that either of them will let this feud go, even if there are more important things to worry about.”

“This is starting to make a little more sense. Not much, but a little. Do you know much about his sister Lylia?”

“Lylia is a bit of a non-entity. She was used to prop up her brother throughout their childhood, but now she has her own career, keeps her nose clean for the most part. I rarely hear any type of gossip about her.”

Eric studied his notes. “Anything else you can think might be helpful? Anywhere you would suggest we look next?”

“I have people scattered through Darktown who might be able to give you information beyond even what I know. Apart from them, you may also want to speak to Bernard’s son if you haven’t already. I don’t know if he’ll be able to shed any further light on things, but I imagine it can’t hurt.”

“He’s on our list.” Eric gave her his card. “I have a feeling your people might be a little more forthcoming for you than they would be for us, so if you find someone who can give us any intel, give me a call, will you?”

She nodded, chuckling slightly. “I misjudged you, detectives,” she said as she accepted the card. “If you have anything else you need, don’t hesitate to find me - we could develop a good working relationship, the three of us. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Just one thing springs to mind, Ms. Felassan,” said Colin. “We were told you left Celeste’s campaign due to a scandal. Can you shed any light on that for us?”

Once again, her fingers played over her locket and for the first time since their conversation began, Briana’s eyes did not quite meet theirs. “I was accused of stealing campaign funds - it was a trumped-up charge, but it was enough to get me arrested. Let’s just say Celeste and I have had a rocky relationship ever since.”

“Yeah, if somebody accused me of taking their money, I wouldn’t be in a rush to make polite chit-chat either,” Eric agreed. “All right. Thank you for your time.”

“Tread carefully, detectives. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you this city is one spark away from a full-on fire. These are dangerous times we live in.”

“That’s why we’re here, ma’am. To be the water brigade.” Eric tipped his hat and gestured for Colin to follow him back to Darktown.

“I’ll admit that was more productive than I expected,” said Colin as they walked. “But the real question is, do we trust her?”

“Not completely. There was definitely something registering on the old BS meter,” Eric confirmed. “Did you notice the locket?”

“Absolutely. I find myself wondering if it had something to do with Celeste - like she gave it to Briana perhaps? And if so, is it important? I’m curious if we can talk to Celeste as well, hear her side of what happened.”

“We can try. But the locket - it was heart-shaped. Remember what the mistress told us about his last words? ‘Bring me the heart of Snow White’? I wonder if that’s any connection.”

“My thoughts exactly. All the more reason to try and find where it came from. Perhaps it’s not just a locket - perhaps it holds something? I don’t know.”

They were in the car again, and Eric drummed thoughtfully on the wheel. “Briana was talking about her ‘relationship’ with Celeste. And every time Celeste was the subject, she had her hand on that locket. You think…?”

“It’s certainly possible. The way she talked about Celeste - ‘I didn’t know her as well as I thought’ and the like - seemed far more familiar than a former employee might normally be. If I was accused of something like she had been, I would be angry, and she was, but she also seemed deeply wounded by the whole thing. Like it was a personal betrayal.”

“Exactly. I wonder if we can find anybody to confirm that for us without having to pester either of the women, though.”

“Would Dr. de L’Acier know? She is a supporter of Celeste’s, she might have heard information like that. Or any of these people Briana keeps mentioning throughout Darktown? You’re right when you said they’re more likely to talk to her than to us, but if even one of them is willing to spill some secrets…” He left the thought unfinished, shrugging slightly.

“Dr. de L’Acier might know.” Eric frowned thoughtfully. “Let’s go back to the library. The microfilm room is open - we can pull up the newspaper articles about the campaign scandal. There might be a hint.”

“Good plan. Besides, I think we would be wise to take Briana’s advice and do some more digging about Carrie Anne Charron and Celeste’s parents. Roland Beaumont was _poisoned_? If that’s true and it turns out to not be mere coincidence, it could point us to the type of poison that killed the judge or how it was administered.”

“I didn’t even think of that - what if they were killed the same way? It would definitely be more than mere coincidence.”

“Indeed. I think we have some reading to do - and perhaps a call to the coroner. I remember Dr. de L’Acier saying she had no idea how the poison was administered, perhaps we can narrow that down a bit.”

“Yeah, Captain should have that report soon, if she doesn’t already. I’ll drive us over to the library, you give her a call.” He started the engine.

Colin did just that as they drove and spent a few minutes in consultation with the captain before hanging up again. “All right, the initial findings of the coroner’s examination are complete - the coroner is just as baffled as Dr. de L’Acier was regarding the source of the poison, apparently, but the other findings should be waiting for us when we go back to the station.”

“So we have a guy who has been poisoned and nobody knows how. Does the coroner at least know what the poison _is_?”

“No clue yet, apparently. It sounds as though it may take a few days before a full toxicology report comes back. Until then, it looks like we’re on our own, at least as far as the poison goes.”

“Of course we are.” Eric sighed. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised. All right, let’s go have fun with the news.”

“We have a unique definition of fun,” Colin said dryly. “Although I will admit the library is starting to become one of my favorite parts of this city, even in spite of the baffling nature of this case.”

“It’s an oasis of sanity,” Eric agreed. “One of the few Kirkwall has. I can’t fault your taste.”

They were ensconced in that oasis of sanity a short while later, searching through everything they could find about their suspects. After about an hour of this, Colin broke relative silence. “Any luck finding information on Celeste and Briana’s falling out?”

“Some coverage of the arrest and acquittal, but it seems like a lot of the details were kept out of the papers,” Eric replied. “But look at this.” He beckoned for Colin to look at the image on his screen. “From some appearance Celeste had before the whole upset. She and Briana together in public - you see anything, shall we say, interesting?”

Colin peered at the image, taking note of everything including the familiarity of the two women’s body language but most of all of the flash of silver around Celeste’s neck. “Unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like Celeste is wearing a locket identical to the one we saw Briana with today.”

“Yep. And Celeste strikes me as a bit on the pasty white side… kind of like snow.” Eric pressed the button to print the image. “Can’t hurt to keep this handy.”

“No, definitely not. If that is indeed the ‘heart’ Judge Germain was referring to, I wonder why. What did he have on Celeste or Briana, if anything? I wish we could get into that laptop.” He shook his head.

“We’ll figure it out. There’s probably something we overlooked - I bet the tech guys can work out what it is.”

“I hope so. In the meantime, I found something very interesting regarding Carrie Anne Charron. I’ve been looking into those official death reports for Clarissa and Roland Beaumont and Carrie Anne herself. So we knew that Roland was said to have had an allergic reaction, Clarissa died in a hunting accident, and Carrie Anne was said to have died in an accidental fall. Three accidents all within a short time of one another.” He rolled his eyes. “But I did a little digging and found some inconsistencies that were reported at the time which I think supports Briana’s notion that Carrie Anne killed the Beaumonts - and that Roland killed her.”

“Hmm.” Eric picked up a pencil and toyed with it. “So the judge’s murder _could_ be some kind of delayed revenge scheme. I don’t know how likely that would be, given how long it’s been since all that happened, but it’s possible. What seems more likely to me, though, is that this is exactly what the killer _wants_ us to think.”

“I agree. And it gets better - the autopsy report for Roland Beaumont didn’t hit on much of anything beyond the fact that he asphyxiated. But there was an interesting note that he had a very small cut on his body. Coroner paid it almost no attention, it’s literally just a brief mention during the initial examination of the body. But here’s what caught my attention - according to the coroner, the cut appears as though it were made by quote, ‘a small knife or a letter opener.’”

“Huh. A small knife? But Briana said he was poisoned…” Eric paused, and his eyes got wide. “How did Dr. de L’Acier say the judge died?”

Colin reached for his notebook, flipping back a few pages. “Uh, here it is. She said it was like he was choking but there was nothing in his mouth or airways. He asphyxiated, just like Roland.”

“Roland didn’t have an allergic reaction to anything, he _was_ poisoned!” Eric paused. “A poisoned blade?”

“That would make a lot of sense - particularly if the coroner can corroborate that the judge had a similar cut, then we may be looking at the same weapon for both murders. I am eager to see that letter opener that belonged to Carrie Anne.”

* * *

“About that,” said the captain, when they brought her the info they’d found. “Dr. de L’Acier called and would like to see you as soon as possible. She went looking for the letter opener you asked her to find, and it’s missing.”

“What?” Colin’s eyes widened. “Missing? I’m starting to become more and more convinced this thing is not just a letter opener.” To Eric, he added, “I think we might benefit from another look at that office.”

“I think you’re right. If our hunch is correct, that thing is almost certainly the murder weapon - maybe twice over. We need to find it.”

“That reminds me, does the coroner’s report say anything about Judge Germain having a small cut anywhere on his body?” This last was addressed to the captain.

Captain Hendallen paused, and opened the file. “As a matter of fact, yes. On the palm of his left hand, five-eighths of an inch long. Barely more than a paper cut.”

Colin ran his teeth over his bottom lip. “If this thing really is our murder weapon and it can kill a man with such a small gash, it’s even more dangerous than I thought. Thank you, Captain, we’ll get down there right away.”

“I’ll notify Hardy to expect you. Dr. de L’Acier will let you know when you arrive if anything else is missing from the estate.”

“Understood. We’ll get down there right away.”

Within twenty minutes, they were back at the estate, greeting Detective Hardy as she answered the door.

“This just gets stranger and stranger by the hour, boys,” she hailed them. “Who steals a letter opener?”

“We have some theories, although I know you understand we can’t share them at present,” said Eric. “Can you show us where the letter opener is supposed to be?”

“Of course. Dr. de L’Acier is waiting inside, obviously, she can give you a better idea of what’s right and wrong in there.”

She stood aside so they could enter, then followed them inside to join Dr. de L’Acier. In short order, both women led them upstairs to the judge’s office. Everything seemed much the same as it had on their last visit.

“Thank you for coming back, detectives,” said the pharmacist. “I might never have noticed the letter opener was missing if you hadn’t mentioned it. Bernard kept it in this cabinet, opposite his desk - you can see the little display inside.” On one shelf of the cabinet in question was a pedestal, evidently designed for the specific purpose of showcasing a small blade.

Colin walked over to study the cabinet, taking a picture with his phone. “Did we have the crime lab in here?” he asked Hardy, who was standing in the doorway.

“We did,” she confirmed. “They found nothing. Whoever did this covered their tracks.”

He made a noise that showed he expected that but was still annoyed. “And you haven’t noticed anything else missing, Dr. de L’Acier?” he asked.

“Nothing. And there are much more valuable items in this room alone which I would have expected a thief to take before a mere letter opener,” she replied. “The letter opener would fetch a decent price, to be sure, but I can’t fathom why that would be the _only_ thing someone would take.”

“We have a few thoughts about that,” Colin replied, his eyes still on the cabinet. He glanced back and forth between it and the desk for a moment. “Dr. de L’Acier, is there any significance to the sapphire? Some reason why Gaston gave such a thing to Carrie Anne?”

“Hmm. I know it was his gift to her on their first wedding anniversary.” The pharmacist paused, thinking. “If I remember correctly, sapphire was Carrie Anne’s birthstone, so she was rather partial to it in her jewelry and the like. Other than that, it has no significance that I can recall.”

“But it could have reminded the judge of his daughter,” Colin said, more to himself than anyone else. He took a few steps back and indicated the desk. “And this is where the laptop was, is that right?”

“Right where you’re pointing, my dear.”

“You getting an idea, Curly?” Eric asked.

“Possibly. I find myself wondering if the letter opener served as a sort of password reminder…”

Eric frowned, and moved behind the desk. From that vantage point, the letter opener display was at eye level, in full view. “You could be onto something. We tried all the obvious passwords - it’s worth a shot.”

“Indeed. We’ll see what we can do - with any luck, there’s something on that laptop that can shed some light on this.”

“All right. If you’ll excuse us, doctor, we’ll head back and test my partner’s theory. If you discover anything else is missing or strange, please contact us as soon as possible.”

“Of course, my dears. Oh, and I’ve been in touch with dear Laurence - he said he’ll stop by your station on his way to the funeral home.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Colin said as they excused themselves from the home and out to the car.

“Let’s hope this Laurence can tell us _something_ useful.” Eric sighed, scratching a calloused hand through his hair. “It feels like we’re missing something - well, maybe it’s in the computer. You need a coffee or anything while we’re out?”

“A coffee sounds perfect. If we get into the laptop, it can be like a reward. And if not, well, it will be a decent enough consolation prize.”

* * *

One spin through the coffee shop drive-thru later, the detectives were back at headquarters and staring intently at the computer.

“All right, I have a hunch,” said Colin, sitting down in front of the device. “Cross your fingers.” After a beat, he typed the word _sapphire_ into the password bar and hit enter.

“Curly, lunch is on me tomorrow,” said Eric with a sigh of relief, watching as files suddenly started appearing. “Finally. All right, what do we have?”

“Let’s see. Quite a few files related to various cases, a number of emails, personal finance documents…” He scrolled absently through the various folders that littered the desktop. “What’s this? Hmm, it looks as though the judge was looking into both Celeste and Gaston. He was certainly committed to making an informed decision, I suppose.”

“That’s in his favor. Anything incriminating on either one?” Eric knocked back his last mouthful of coffee and peered over Colin’s shoulder.

Colin was silent for a moment as he clicked the various folders, which were buried among other folders and hidden away. “If the lengths he’s gone through to hide them is any indicator, I would say yes,” he remarked, opening a few of the documents. “It seems he’s compiled quite a bit.”

“Damn. Sort of puts us back at square one.” Eric sighed. “Either one of them could still be a suspect, if they knew he had all this. Anybody else in there we should be considering too, or are those the big ones?”

“They seem to be the big two, apart from some information he was compiling about the Carta and the Coterie - it’s not surprising that a judge would be concerned about those groups.” More clicking. “Now, this is interesting. It seems Bernard suspected that someone might be enabling the gangs, sort of fanning the flames, as it were. But it seems he wasn’t sure who it might be.”

“Hm. The question there would be, why? What could anybody hope to gain by doing that? It’s not like the gangs are generally out to help anybody but themselves, after all. I don’t think they even care very much who’s running the city, officially, since they both consider themselves to be running it _un_ officially.”

“Chaos for chaos’s sake maybe?” Colin shrugged. “Get both groups fired up so whoever’s behind this can take advantage of the madness? I don’t know if that sounds particularly like Celeste or Gaston, but stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“It’s as viable a theory as any right now, I suppose.” Eric also shrugged. “I just wish we had a little more information about… well, about _anything_. That ‘snow white’ line is bugging me, like there’s something we’ve overlooked.”

“Agreed. I think I would like to spend some time going through this thing, now that we finally have access to it.” He gestured to the laptop. “Maybe there’s something in here that can point us to just what that means or give us some clues to who could have taken the dagger. I know the answers are right in front of us if we can just string them together.”

“All right. You can make more sense out of the computer than I can, I imagine,” mused the older detective. “I - hold that thought.” His phone was ringing; the display showed an unfamiliar number. “Varras.”

“Detective,” came the voice on the other end. “It’s Briana. I’ve come across an interesting development that I thought you might like to know about. One of my people ran into an orphan boy in Darktown; I think it would be in your best interest to talk to him.”

“An orphan boy in Darktown?” Eric repeated. “That doesn’t narrow it down very far - can you give me a more detailed description? What kind of information does he have?”

“He’s not like the other Darktown orphans; he’s more concerned with feeding the stray animals down there than he is with taking care of himself, or at least that’s what I hear,” Briana said. “He’s adept at hiding, but I suspect if you find some of his stray cats, you’ll find him. As for what he saw, your guess is as good as mine, Detective. My gut tells me the boy knows something, but he won’t say what, nor will he reveal himself to any of my people long enough for us to get answers.”

“But you think he’ll talk to us?” Eric had his doubts, but a kid who was more interested in feeding stray animals than picking pockets had to be worth finding, if only to try to figure out how he’d managed to maintain any sort of moral compass in Darktown. “All right, we’ll look into it. Thanks.”

“I suspect you’ll have more luck than my people did, but take along a saucer of milk just in case. Good luck, detective.” She hung up without another word and Colin gave Eric a questioning look.

“That was Briana. Seems that some kid in Darktown may have seen something, but he won’t talk to her people.” He looked thoughtful. “You stay here and play solitaire or whatever. I’ll go pick up a bag of cat food. When I get back, we’ll go find him.”

“All right.” The younger detective nodded, then lifted an eyebrow. “A bag of cat food? What are you talking about?”

“This kid feeds the stray cats down there more than he worries about putting food in his own belly, at least according to Briana. I figure if we show up with a bag of kibble for his friends, he might trust us more.”

“Oh, I see.” Colin’s look softened immeasurably. “How on earth did someone like that end up down there? Poor lad.”

“You’d be amazed.” Eric shook his head. “I’ll get him a couple sandwiches too. You want anything while I’m out?”

“You make a tempting offer. I would ask for more coffee, but my heart may actually give out if I have another cup.” He smiled almost ruefully. “So I’m fine for now.”

“When did you last eat anything solid?” Eric paused. “When was the last time I did? Right, I’m getting sandwiches for us too.”

“Now that you mention it, that’s probably not a bad idea. I tend to forget about things like eating when I’m engrossed in work like this.”

“I have my uses. All right, I’ll be back soon.” Eric ambled out of the room and poked his head into the captain’s office. “I’m on a supply run, boss, you need anything?”

“If by ‘supplies’ you mean ‘coffee’, I wouldn’t say no.” She rubbed her temples. “How are we on the Germain case?”

“Well, we got into his computer,” he replied. “Curly’s working on his files right now, and there’s a witness in Darktown we’ll be going to interview when I get back. Other than that, no new developments.”

She sighed a little. “Well, keep me updated. I know the judge’s son is supposed to be here at some point, I’m hoping he can help.”

“Hold onto that. I’ll be back within the hour.”


	4. The Sapphire Scandal, Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third and final part of this story. Don't worry, there's more to come!

Eric returned with the requested articles and, after depositing the coffee on Captain Hendallen’s desk, dangled a sandwich in front of Colin’s face. “They didn’t have that one kind of cheese you said you like, sorry.”

“I’m sure I’ll live.” He chuckled, accepting the sandwich. “I’m just grateful for real food and the chance to look away from this computer screen.”

“Found anything that might be worthwhile, or were you just playing Minesweeper?” Eric took a bite of his own food.

“No to both, I’m afraid. It seems like Bernard may have been closing in on something promising, but he could have just as easily been chasing a dead end. He died before really uncovering whatever was at play.”

“Just like Minesweeper. Well, I got the biggest bag of cat food they had - should keep the kid happy for a while - so after we eat, we’ll head down and see if we can find him.”

“Excellent. Did Briana say where in Darktown we can find this boy or anything about him besides that he likes to help the cats?”

“Actually, no,” Eric admitted. “The way she talked it’s like he’s a ghost, nobody seems to have a clear idea of what he looks like or anything. Like he’s only found if he wants to be found.”

“Hmm. Odd. Although I suppose not entirely unexpected - if I was an orphan in Darktown, I think I’d do likewise. Well, if all else fails, I suppose we’ll just follow the trail of cats.”

“Hopefully it’s a scenic route.”

With food in their stomachs and cat food in tow, they made their way to the Undercity and began hunting for strays. It was a strange search and one that, after several minutes, seemed like it might prove to be fruitless, when suddenly Colin pointed.

“Look over there,” he whispered.

At the end of one of the alleyways, several cats had congregated around a single dish. A thin blonde boy dressed in dirty clothing hunched next to them, saying soothing things to each of the animals who gathered around him.

The detectives moved closer, slowly, as though approaching a wild animal which might do something weird and unexpected like offer its business card, and strained their ears to hear the boy’s words. “Your cut seems better today,” he informed one of the cats. “Hurts healing, wounds closing. Soon your fur will grow back. I’m sorry I couldn’t get milk, but I found this.”

Colin smiled a little, pausing to watch as the boy offered his pale hand to the cat to sniff, petting and feeding each cat in turn. “Maybe this might help,” he said at last, loud enough to get the boy’s attention, but not loud enough to frighten either him or his friends, and held up the bag of food.

The boy looked over at them and, briefly, the clear impulse to flee crossed his face. When he saw the offering, however, he hesitated. “You came to feed my friends too?”

“Yes.” Colin nodded. “But we also came to talk to you. My name is Colin, this is my friend Eric. Would you mind if we spoke with you a bit?”

After a pause, the boy nodded. “My name is Nicolas. I will speak to you, if you share with my friends.”

“Of course we will,” Colin promised. “And we also brought some food for you too.” He produced the sandwiches as well and offered one to the boy.

“Oh.” Nicolas looked genuinely surprised, as though the possibility of eating hadn’t crossed his mind. “All right. Thank you.” He accepted the sandwich and watched the detectives feed the cats, who swarmed the pile of kibble.

For a moment, Colin was occupied by letting one of the cats sniff his hand and chuckled as it pushed against his palm. “It’s very good of you to do this,” he said to Nicolas, looking up once more. “But how did you end up here in the first place?”

“This is the place where everyone ends up when no one wants them.” Nicolas didn’t sound hardened or bitter, merely factual. “The cats, the other people, me. When there’s no one left for you, you come to Darktown.”

The young detective winced like someone had slapped him, his face a mask of sympathy. “Surely there are better places than this,” he said. “Maybe we could help you somehow.”

“It’s all right. This is where I can help,” Nicolas replied. “I don’t matter. What matters is that I helped.”

“You do matter, Nicolas. You matter to your friends.” He gestured around them. “And you matter to us.” He took out his badge and showed it to the boy. “You can always come to us if _you_ ever need help. It’s our job to help people.”

“Oh. Yes. You can help.” The boy nodded solemnly. “The butterfly woman was here. Bright and bejeweled but dark and dangerous. She meets, makes plans, projects pain.”

“The butterfly woman?” Colin repeated, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean? What does she plan?”

“The ones in the shadows… they follow her orders. She stands in the light where she thinks no one will see. People have been hurt.” Nicolas looked oddly calm, despite the undercurrent of fear in his voice. “She wants to hurt them very badly, all of them. More than that I don’t know.”

Colin’s eyes widened for a moment before he reached into his pocket. “This butterfly woman, does she look like either of these women, Nicolas?” He unfolded the picture of Celeste and Briana they had discovered at the library.

Nicolas peered at the image, and shook his head. “I couldn’t see her well. But I don’t think so.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to be Briana - don’t think she’d have sent us down here if it would incriminate her,” Eric mused. “Why do you call her ‘the butterfly lady,’ kid?”

“That’s what the others call her, the ones who follow her lead. I don’t understand it - butterflies are kind and colorful, they start their lives as one thing and are reborn something else. The name doesn’t fit her.”

“Can you think of anything else we should know?” Eric pushed a second sandwich at him. “You can save that one for later.”

Nicolas considered the question and shook his head. “No. But I can find you if I do.”

“Do that please,” said Colin. “We work in Hightown, near the Viscount’s Keep. Do you know where that is?” Seeing Nicolas nod, he did likewise. “You’re always welcome to go there if you need to see some friendly faces. In the meantime, though, if this woman is coming down here, it isn’t safe for you.”

“Oh, I can hide. People don’t find me unless I want to be found,” Nicolas replied. “Hidden, half remembered, a shadow in the dark. I’ll be safe, detectives. But I would like to visit you sometimes, if that’s all right.”

“Sure, kid,” said Eric, gently. “Even if it’s just to warm up on a cold day, you come up and see us.”

“Our doors are always open for someone who likes to help as much as we do,” Colin added, patting the boy’s shoulder. “Thank you for the information, Nicolas. We appreciate you agreeing to talk to us.”

“I like helping. It’s good,” came the simple reply. “Thank you for bringing food to my friends and me.”

“Of course. Any time, my boy,” Colin said. He seemed reluctant to leave the young man in this place. “Stay safe, Nicolas.”

“You stay safe too, detectives.”

* * *

“Nice kid,” Eric commented. “A little weird, but I like him.”

“So do I,” said Colin. “I just wish he would agree to go somewhere safer. Whoever this ‘butterfly woman’ is, she sounds dangerous.”

“You haven’t been in Kirkwall long enough to know this, but there aren’t a whole lot of options for people in Darktown. If there were, they wouldn’t _be_ in Darktown.” Eric didn’t sound cynical, just sad. “It’s open to interpretation as to whose fault that is. Everybody blames somebody else.”

“But he’s so young. And the way he talked about himself - saying he didn’t matter…” Colin shook his head. “Maybe I’m just too soft, but I wish I could do more.”

“I know, Curly. Me too. Maybe someday we’ll figure something out.”

“I hope so. In the meantime, what do you think about his information? Does a ‘butterfly woman’ ring any bells?”

Eric shook his head. “Can’t begin to imagine what that means. Unless maybe there’s a brand of women’s, I don’t know, handbags or something with a butterfly emblem? We could try that angle.”

“Maybe.” Colin looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, come to think of it, Bernard’s files had an occasional mention of _le papillon_ \- the Orlesian word for butterfly. It didn’t make sense at the time, but with this new context added maybe it will. Perhaps he was trying to figure out this woman’s identity too.”

“That makes more sense than almost anything else we’ve come across. Well, what time is it? Should we head back to HQ and keep at it, or get some sleep first?”

“I’ve had entirely too much caffeine to sleep, I think, so I’ll head back and do a little research. No sense in both of us losing sleep.”

“That stuff’ll kill you, you know,” said Eric, as though he didn’t drink just as much of it. “All right, let’s head back then. I’m not letting you have all the fun here.”

Colin chuckled. “Fair enough.”

In short order, Darktown was just a memory as they made their way back into Hightown where the police station stood. As they approached, Eric saw a handsome and thoroughly unfamiliar younger man start to open the door. “Can we help you?” he asked in a hesitantly friendly tone.

The man turned at the sound of Eric’s greeting. “Yes, I certainly hope so,” he replied. “My name is Laurence Germain – Dr. de L’Acier suggested I meet with two detectives here.”

“Oh, Messere Germain, we’ve been expecting you.” Eric made the introductions. “We’re very sorry about your father, he was a great man.”

“Thank you, I appreciate hearing that. If I can help at all, I promise I’m at your disposal,” the judge’s son said as he followed them inside. “The entire thing still doesn’t really feel real.”

“I can imagine it doesn’t. Can we get you anything? Coffee?”

He politely refused, accepting a chair that Colin fetched for him as they settled down in one of the offices. “I don’t know how much information I’ll really be able to give you, but please, ask me anything and I’ll see what I can offer.”

“We’ve been trying to comb through your father’s cases,” Eric began, “to see if he had any enemies. He seems to have used a lot of code in his writing. You don’t by chance know how to crack it, do you?” He was already convinced that the judge’s son was not a suspect; there was too much genuine grief in the younger man’s eyes. Eric recognized the look.

Laurence’s head tilted a little in thought. “My father did his best not to discuss his work too much - he believed in keeping it separate from his personal life as much as possible. But maybe. What kind of code are you coming across?”

“Well, we’ve encountered a couple mentions of butterflies, which seem to refer to a specific woman. Does that ring any kind of a bell?”

“Butterflies? No, I can’t say it does, I’m afraid. My father had a tendency to do that – come up with little nicknames for things.” He smiled a little, both fond and sad at once. “But that’s not one I ever heard.”

Eric chuckled. “I have the same tendency. What did he call you?”

“Ah, well, when my sister and I were young, we were always reading fairy tales, so Papa called us after our favorite. As such, I was Prince Charming. My sister Carrie Anne, Maker rest her soul, was Snow White.”

“...you don’t say.” Eric looked at Colin, trying (and probably failing) to keep the astonishment off of his face. Did that mean what he thought it meant?

Colin did likewise, glancing over at Eric with wide eyes. Laurence smiled quizzically. “Is that relevant?” he asked. “I hadn’t heard him use either name in years - they sort of stayed in our childhood.”

“It might be, yeah,” Eric admitted. “According to Dr. de L’Acier, your father’s last words were ‘bring me the heart of Snow White.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

The man’s eyebrows lifted slightly, before furrowing in thought. “The heart of Snow White?” He repeated. “No, if ‘Snow White’ does indeed refer to my sister, I’ll admit I have no idea. Well, I mean, there was a heart-shaped stone in that dagger her husband gave her, but that’s about all I can think of.”

“The letter opener which has mysteriously gone missing? Damn, this is getting weirder. Apparently that item is the only thing which was taken on the night of his death,” Eric explained. “But we can’t figure out why anyone would want it.”

“That’s very odd,” Laurence agreed. He sounded perplexed. “My sister prized it highly - and after her death it was given to my father, who did likewise. But for Papa it was because it was sentimental, I always assumed that was why Carrie Anne guarded it so much too. The sapphires in it are valuable, surely, but not the most valuable thing in my father’s possession. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to take it.”

“Unless it was also for sentimental value,” muttered the older detective. “Or... incriminating evidence. Of what, I’m not sure.”

Colin, meanwhile, was quietly reading over the notes he had been making throughout the case and looked up suddenly. “Messere Germain, would you mind giving us a moment? I need to run something by my partner.”

“Of course. I’ll just step out into the hallway.”

“What’s on your mind, Curly?” Eric asked once he was gone.

“It may be nothing, but I was just thinking - if Bernard’s daughter is ‘Snow White’ and the letter opener is indeed the murder weapon, what if Bernard was asking for it? When we first interviewed her, Dr. de L’Acier said it was possible he was just out of his head near the end; perhaps he was trying to communicate to her that she should fetch Carrie Anne’s dagger, but he lapsed into the way he spoke of his daughter when she was a child because his mind was so addled by that point.” He shrugged a little. “Maybe he knew the dagger was poisoned and he was trying to tell the doctor to find it so she could construct some sort of antidote?”

“But how would he know it was poisoned? Unless he poisoned it himself… but that doesn’t seem likely.”

“I agree. But perhaps he knew about Carrie Anne’s… shall we say ‘history’ with the Beaumonts. Or suspected it, if nothing else. Maybe someone even told him, I don’t pretend to know.”

“We know that both Celeste’s old man and the judge had the same type of injury, and didn’t the doc say the judge seemed to be choking when he died?”

“Yes. And Roland Beaumont was said officially to have gone into anaphylactic shock. They said it was from an allergy, but if he died of an allergy then I’m the king of Ferelden.” Colin snorted. “But if Carrie Anne killed Roland, who killed Bernard? And why? We’ve already ruled out the idea that this would be some sort of revenge for Carrie Anne’s death.”

“What if Bernard’s death _was_ an accident? We’ve been assuming it was outright murder, but what if he caught someone trying to steal the blade? He took an accidental injury, realized the truth about the weapon, and tried to tell the doc what she’d need to know to save him.” Eric likewise shrugged, his expression baffled. “It’s such a crazy theory I can’t help thinking it might be right.”

Colin considered this, nodding slowly. “That might explain a lot. But why would someone try to steal the blade? And who might do it? I know Gaston asked for it, but would he resort to outright stealing it? That seems extreme.”

“Actually, I think that would rule him out as a suspect,” Eric admitted. “If he’d stolen it himself, he wouldn’t have drawn our attention to it by asking for its return. I’m thinking that if someone took the thing, it was because they knew it was poisoned – either they wanted to prove what really happened to Roland, or they wanted to keep anyone from finding out, _or_ they wanted to do it again.”

“The last one concerns me a great deal, especially when coupled with what Nicolas said about this mysterious woman that no one seems to know. All three options seem likely, however, and they could all very easily be related.”

“Yeah… how do we go about finding her?”

“I don’t know,” Colin admitted. “It’s starting to seem like everyone who could answer that question is dead.”

“Let’s check some old case files,” Eric suggested. “Maybe there’s something butterfly related in a case that’s been closed for a long time, or - wait, does the zoo have a butterfly garden? That could be a possible lead too. This is starting to make my head hurt.”

“Agreed.” The younger detective rubbed his temples. “But this is as good a start as anything. Perhaps if we’re lucky, the solution will fall in our laps,” he added, in a tone of voice that suggested he didn’t really believe that.

There was a part of Eric that sort of wanted to see exactly this - that the ‘butterfly lady’ would waltz into the station and drape herself across his partner’s knees. He would have paid a fair few royals for such a thing. Instead, after they thanked Laurence Germain for his help and promised to be in contact, they sat down to do some heavy-duty brooding which was only interrupted by a visit from the captain. “I don’t recognize that expression on your face, boss, and that makes me nervous,” said Eric.

“Go with that feeling, because this is certainly not something I was expecting,” she said, handing over a thick card that was decorated in gold leaf. “It seems Lylia Charron is throwing a… something or other - some sort of soiree to try and promote level heads ahead of the election. And you, detectives, have an invitation courtesy of Gaston.”

“Well, that’s… nice, I guess, but… why?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “But he’s Orlesian, so I would be willing to bet it comes with some sort of ulterior motive. And I think you should accept.”

“What?” From his place next to Eric, Colin looked both shocked and a little pained.

“Since when is dressing up and making small talk with Orlesians part of the job description?” Eric wanted to know.

“Since the murder of an Orlesian judge,” she replied. “Look, I know it’s the last thing either of you want to do, but all of your suspects and all of your clues could be converging on this one location. If there’s information to be obtained there, you’ll only be able to obtain it by walking the walk.”  

The older detective grunted, and opened the envelope. “I’m not wearing a mask,” he said flatly. “You don’t pay me enough to smother. Otherwise, fine.” He handed the invitation to Colin.

“Good. And at any rate, not wearing a mask to an Orlesian party is apparently as much of a statement as wearing one, so you two ought to be the talk of the town.”

Colin groaned at that and rolled his eyes as he scanned the invitation. “I’m already dreading this,” he said.

“I’ll protect you, Curly.” Eric paused. “I may have to, actually. In my experience, Orlesians aren’t good at taking no for an answer.”

“That doesn’t do much to improve my opinion on this whole thing,” he said, cringing a little. “But if it helps, I suppose it’ll be worth it.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone worth knowing. Stranger things have happened, especially in this place.”

“I highly doubt that. When it comes to ‘strange,’ that’s a bridge too far, I think.” He half-smiled, however. Then he grew pensive again. “Speaking of strange, I still can’t help but wonder what Gaston’s ulterior motive is in inviting us.”

“Could be he’s just being nice. Could be he wants our support. Or it could be we’re walking into a highly decorative trap.” Eric shrugged. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

“Indeed. I suppose I have to rent a new suit for the occasion; I’m ill equipped for… whatever this is.”

“Oh, well, _there_ I can be helpful.”

* * *

A few days later, Eric had introduced Colin to his favorite tailor, and on the night of Lylia’s party, they made their way to the Charron estate for the festivities. “Allegedly these people know how to throw a good shindig. Personally, I’d rather have a few people in my rooms at the Hanged Man for cards, but hopefully the food will be worth the trip at least.”

“Hopefully,” Colin agreed, shifting back and forth uncomfortably. “The sooner this is over the better, in my opinion.”

“You and me both. Come on, let’s find the host and hostess and let them know we showed up.” They made their way deeper into the estate in search of their quarry.

It was Gaston who found them first and although his mask made it difficult to see what his facial expressions were, his manner suggested he was outwardly pleased to see them.

“Detectives!” he said pleasantly, as if they were old friends. “I wasn’t sure if you’d accept the invitation. Come, have a drink, make yourselves comfortable.”

“Good of you to invite us, serah. Our captain sends her compliments,” said Eric. “We can’t stay long, because we’re chasing down some leads, but we think your father-in-law’s case will be wrapped up in the near future.” It was a carefully worded fib, designed to try to gauge Gaston’s reaction.

“Oh?” The tone was one of curiosity and surprise. “That is very good news indeed. Bernard deserves justice, and Laurence and Dr. de L’Acier deserve closure. We all do. I know you can’t speak of particulars, of course, but do you have a suspect?”

“No one we’re prepared to identify just yet. But we’re getting close.”

“Good. Kirkwall has enough problems without a killer running wild. You know I support your department very fervently, Detectives - might is the only thing that keeps this city held together. But I’ll save you the political speech.” He clapped them both on the shoulder.

“Weird as it sounds,” Eric muttered as they walked away, “I don’t think he’s behind this. I’m not saying his nose is clean - I’m pretty sure he’s up to _something_ \- but not this.”

“I think you’re right,” Colin agreed. “As you say, I think he’s definitely up to something - the judge certainly seemed to think so if his files are anything to go by - but he doesn’t strike me as a murderer. He seems too easy-going and I highly doubt he’s that good of an actor.”

“Exactly. So let’s have a look around and see if we can spot anything out of the ordinary. I mean, it’s an Orlesian party, so there’ll be nonsense aplenty, but maybe there’s something more than that to be found.”

“I agree. I hear a few of the other judges are here, as is Celeste - they might all be worth talking to, or watching at the very least. The real question is whether or not we dare to split up.” He glanced around the room. “This lot already looks like they’re circling.”

“You’re too pretty for your own good. That’s the problem,” said Eric. “I mean, yes, we _should_ split up, but I’m not sure throwing you into shark-infested waters is the best idea.”

“I should be able to take care of myself,” Colin replied. “Maybe. Hopefully. For the good of the investigation, I think I can put up with a few over-excited partygoers.” He already looked a little embarrassed, however.

“Well, all right then. Go on and mingle. I’ll see who I can find.”

“And I’ll do likewise. If they corner me, just run and save yourself.” He chuckled nervously. “Good luck.”

“You too. Fire a signal if you run into trouble.” Eric ambled over to the buffet table to examine the dessert spread. He’d never yet encountered a pastry that was innocent of the crime of being delicious, and he didn’t expect to start now.

Colin, meanwhile, took up position against one of the far walls near a window and tried to appear as though he were just admiring the artwork. In actuality, he had a decent view of the entire room and was scanning it for anything of note. He could see Eric, which was a relief; he could also see Celeste, although she seemed to be flanked by campaign staff and was constantly on the move. Aside from that, however, the only other thing in evidence were several people looking appraisingly in his direction. He did his best not to make eye contact, even as he stayed alert.

Eric was covertly keeping an eye on Colin, and he’d have been lying if he said he wasn’t amused by the way people kept looking at the good-looking younger man. Ah, well, Curly would manage. He wanted to talk to Celeste, but her bevy of assistants and whatever formed too tight a perimeter for him to get near. Failing this, he swept the room with his gaze, trying to light on someone who might be of use in the investigation.

After a few minutes of this, Gaston wandered back into view, this time with his sister in tow. Her porcelain face was even more doll-like tonight, her lips painted red and her blonde hair slicked back so that her mask dominated her forehead. There was something unique about her entire ensemble - most people were in over-the-top gowns and masks tonight, but Lylia’s long cream-colored evening dress with its high raised collar and her silver mask seemed to be chosen with some sort of deliberate symbolism in mind, although as she remained in close consultation with Gaston, it was a little difficult to really see the full details.

 _Hmm. Something feels a little off about all this. I just don’t quite know what._ Eric wandered casually to the bar, ordering a small whiskey while keeping all of the major players within view. _If I could see Celeste and Gaston interacting, I might have a better idea._

The feuding cousins kept their distance, however, save for a brief interaction that seemed more a show for the press than anything substantial. Their masks and their carefully schooled expressions made it difficult to read them, but their body language made it clear the tension between them was deep. Gaston then retreated to one of the balconies with a drink in his hand while Celeste greeted people like old friends before she likewise disappeared.

 _Do I try to follow her?_ Eric mused. _That might be the best course of action. If I can get her alone for a few minutes, maybe I can get her to answer a couple of questions. Curly can handle the ballroom alone for a little bit._ Catching his partner’s eye, he indicated his intended direction before heading for the door through which Celeste had vanished.

Across the room, Colin saw this and nodded slightly, although he felt his heart lurch with apprehension. He had a bad feeling about this whole thing - a sort of nameless dread he couldn’t quantify at all. But Eric was clever and he had every confidence the older more experienced detective would be fine. He himself was the rookie, after all. It would be better if he stayed here and kept alert for any sign of trouble. Then again, that might prove easier said than done as his presence began to attract… unwanted attention. There was only so long one could stand by a wall and pretend to admire the artwork, he supposed.

“Detective Lyons, how good to see you.” The speaker at his side turned out to be Lylia. “We meet again - welcome to my party.”

He turned to her in some surprise. “Miss Charron,” he greeted her. “Thank you. It was good of your brother to invite us, although a bit unexpected, I admit.”

“I know that you are still searching for the truth,” she said silkily. “I also know that you are the object of much admiration tonight, and I can see how uncomfortable it makes you. Come - dance with me. They cannot trouble you on the dance floor, and we can speak without being overheard.”

If he was surprised before, he was certainly surprised now. “I - I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer,” he replied.

“You needn’t fear,” she assured him. “It is a simple step, nothing worse. And it will keep you out of the hands of… others.”

“Well, you may have a point there,” he conceded, glancing around nervously. He wasn’t sure this was the best idea, but being mobbed would be worse. “Very well.”

She took his arm and guided him to the floor, where a waltz was beginning. “I do not see your partner,” she remarked idly. “Did you come alone?”

“He’s here,” Colin replied, trying not to look as awkward as he felt as he took Lylia’s hand. “I suspect he might have stepped out for a bit of air.”

“I would urge you both to be careful,” she replied. “A certain… person… has more to do with the case than anyone could ever guess. Likely there will be… drastic action taken tonight, what with both my brother and our cousin in the same place.”

“Drastic action?” He kept his voice low, his brow knitted in concern. “If you know something, Miss Charron, I would urge you to tell me. What person?”

“I could not say. But I have… grave concerns,” she said softly as they swayed. “My brother… he very much wants to take the position. He would do most anything… _anything_.”

“If you’re implying what I think you might be implying, those are very grave concerns indeed. Do you know where your brother is now?”

“I believe he - like your partner - has stepped out for some air. But where my cousin has gone, I know not.”

“When last I saw her, she was surrounded by staff. Do you know if there’s a point in the evening when she and your brother might be alone?” If Gaston was indeed the person they were looking for, it seemed logical he might try to strike during a moment when Celeste was not flanked by people.

“Perhaps they are meeting in private. I believe…” She pressed closer in order to speak directly into his ear. “I believe Briana may be here as well. She never has taken kindly to being jilted by my dear cousin.”

“I see.” He nodded, hoping beyond hope that it appeared like this was a simple and casual conversation. “It seems there are quite a few people I should keep my eyes on - it’s beginning to get difficult to tell who is friend and who is foe.”

“That is the way of it,” she noted. “In Orlais - and Orlesian society - everyone is alone. One who is friend at one moment may turn on you in the very next. Be careful.”

“Well, lucky for me I’m not alone,” he replied. “I trust my partner and I trust my department. Whatever is at play here tonight, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“I imagine you will. But perhaps you should go and find your partner.”

“I think you’re right about that,” he remarked. “Thank you for the dance and if you have any other information for us, don’t hesitate to find us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she promised. Then, with a bow, she was off once more.

* * *

As far as Eric was concerned, Colin didn’t come looking for him a minute too soon. He lay on the floor, gasping and clutching his side, and looked up in alarm when the younger detective entered the scene. Seeing the friendly face, he relaxed. “Curly… could have used you a couple minutes ago, but I’ll take what I can get.”

It took Colin a moment to process what he was seeing and when he finally comprehended, his eyes went wide. “Eric?! Andraste’s grace, what happened? Are you all right?”

“Bulletproof saved me from anything worse than some bruised ribs. Hurts like a bitch but I’ll survive.” Groaning, he let Colin help him to sit up. “Where were you? Did you find anything?”

“I had a very illuminating conversation with Lylia,” he reported. “She seems to think our murderer is here tonight and will try something, but she didn’t entirely commit to any one suspect. She spoke of her brother and of Briana as well, so take from that what you will.”

“Well, considering that someone tried to murder _me_ , she could be onto something,” Eric retorted. “Weirdest thing. They were dressed in some kind of clown outfit. What do they call them - harlequin, that’s it.”

“I should have been here,” Colin muttered, shaking his head. “And I’ll admit I’m suspect about the timing of the whole thing. They _knew_ we were separated.”

“Which begs the question, who’s watching us that closely? I came this way because this is the way I saw Celeste go and I wanted to try to catch her alone, so is she the one who tried to kill me?”

“It doesn’t seem her style, but it very well could be for all we know. Lylia seemed to think Celeste might be a target, not a suspect, but she could be wrong.”

“Guess I’m just lucky that the clown didn’t aim for my head.” Eric sighed. “They went that way. Should we give chase?”

“I think we may have to if we want to get to the bottom of this,” Colin said, reaching for his own weapon. “Although we could be walking right into a trap.”

“Kinda thinking that’s what we did when we showed up here in the first place,” his partner grunted. “How was the dancing, anyway?”

“Orlesian,” he replied. “And I’m not much of a dancer anyway, particularly not with Lylia Charron. I suppose it was better than being mobbed. Certainly better than your predicament.”

“I don’t know, maybe being shot was more fun than dancing. It’s been a while since I was in a position to compare. Help me get up.”

Colin offered his partner a hand, easing him carefully to his feet. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“No, I’m half left. I’ll be fine, Curly, I’ll just need a day or two of R&R once we wrap up this nonsense. And a shot of something in my coffee.” Eric opened his coat to inspect the bulletproof. “Could definitely be worse. Let’s go.”

Colin chuckled at the joke in spite of himself. It was a chuckle that also sounded relieved. “When this is over, I’ll buy you whatever you want in your coffee, and the coffee besides. I’m on your six.” He held his gun at the ready.

They skulked - Eric did always enjoy the skulking part of the job - in the direction in which the harlequin had fled. Whether they’d find Eric’s would-be killer, or Celeste Beaumont, or both, he had no way of knowing. But one way or another, he felt reasonably sure that they would finish the case tonight, and he was relieved by the prospect.

The harlequin’s trail proved harder to track than they first thought, however, and as they followed corridors down other corridors, they found themselves back in the main ballroom.

“We’ve gone nearly in a circle,” Colin muttered. “At least we found Celeste if not the harlequin.” He nodded to where the woman was standing.

“And we still can’t get near her,” Eric replied with a groan. He could see Briana sort of hovering in the shadows beyond Celeste and her people. Lylia was approaching the group, however, and those attending Celeste seemed to back off at some gesture the candidate made.

“My dear cousin,” they heard her say, extending a hand to Lylia.

Lylia smiled strangely and linked her hands behind her back as she moved towards Celeste. In the glow of the lights, her silver mask shimmered and winglike shadows fell over her dress.

“Eric…” Colin said slowly. “I just had a terrible thought. Is it just me… or does Lylia’s ensemble somewhat resemble the pattern of… butterfly wings?”

Eric swore under his breath and shifted subtly to one side to get a better look, eyes widening. “Curly, look at her hands!”

From her sleeve, Lylia had produced a single blade which was gripped in her hand – a long, thin blade with a sapphire in its hilt. However she intended to do it, it was clear she was ready to inflict a wound like the one that had killed Celeste’s father, and the one that had killed Bernard.

Colin’s eyes widened. “Oh no. We can’t let her get close enough to Celeste to cut her or it’s over. But there’s too many people…” He was half talking to himself, his knuckles white around his gun.

There was only one thing to do. Eric sort of relished the show. “Lylia Charron!” he barked, lifting his own gun. “Police! Get down on your knees and put your hands in the air!”

The shrieking of nearby party guests became louder as people realized what was happening. Celeste took a step back in bewilderment as Lylia turned to the detectives. For someone with two guns pointed at her, she seemed surprisingly cool.

“Detectives,” she said smoothly, smiling at them both. “What a pleasure. It is good to see you looking so well, Detective Varras. And Detective Lyons, such a pity you did not save one final dance for me.”

“Down on the floor, Miss Charron,” Eric growled. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“You seem concerned about something, Detectives,” she remarked. “Perhaps my late beloved sister-in-law’s missing letter opener? Oh, yes, I know about that. Who do you think returned it to Judge Germain in the first place following his daughter’s death? It wasn’t difficult to retrieve it.” She held the dagger slightly more aloft and at the sight of it, the panic in the room increased to a frenzy of people trying to flee. “Oh, dear, it seems you don’t have a clear shot, do you?” she called over the din.

“Why are you doing this?” Eric asked her, more exasperated than anything.

“You are a native son of Kirkwall, Detective Varras - you know what this city could be if led by someone who will do great things with it. I would see it brought to its full potential by delivering it to someone worthy of it. Not my cousin and not my brother.” She grinned wickedly at Celeste, who was somewhat trapped by her own people fleeing around her. “I’ve outplayed both of them at last.”

“It doesn’t have to end this way, Miss Charron. Put the weapon down - no one needs to get hurt.”

She chuckled. “You poor deluded thing. You don’t know half of what Samuelson and I have planned. This is only the beginning.” With that, she spun with an almost alarming quickness and raised the sapphire dagger against the helpless Celeste.

Before either detective could act, however, Gaston - who had not been visible while Lylia made her taunts - suddenly emerged from the crowd and seized her wrist. “Enough!” he thundered. “Celeste may be my rival but she is still family. I have no desire to spill her blood, nor should you!”

Lylia’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at her brother. For a moment she gaped at him, even as she tried to struggle in his grasp. “No!” she finally managed. “You don’t understand! You and Celeste have been at each other’s throats for ages. I want what’s best for this city!”

“We _all_ want what’s best for the city, Lyli,” he replied, shaking his head. “Murder accomplishes nothing like that. You killed Bernard?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I didn’t want to, it was an accident, but he caught me retrieving Carrie Anne’s dagger and I...” She gritted her teeth. “He was foolish.”

“Lylia Charron, you’re under arrest for murder and attempted murder,” said Eric, reaching them and producing a pair of handcuffs. Colin was already calling the captain for backup.

As Gaston cautiously let go of Lylia’s wrist, her eyes never left his face. “I’m sorry, brother,” she said, removing her mask and blinking at him. “But the Game... is played to the death.” In one fluid movement, she spun the blade around and brought it down into her own palm.

“Lyli!” He fumbled to take the weapon from her grip, but he wasn’t fast enough. Celeste was watching from the sidelines; dimly, Eric realized that Briana had appeared at some point and was standing close to her.   Lylia began gagging, sinking to the floor. The silver mask in her other hand tumbled from her fingers and clattered into the shadows.

“I’ll call an ambulance!” Colin said, but even as the words left his lips, he knew it was pointless. Lylia Charron twitched for a moment before going limp in her brother’s arms. Whatever she may have done, it was clear Gaston had loved her truly and deeply as only a brother could and the weight of his sorrow was palpable in the quiet room.

Unexpectedly, it was Celeste who stepped forward to kneel next to her cousins. “I am sorry, Gaston,” she said, quietly. “And I... thank you. That cannot have been easy.”

He nodded in dim acknowledgment of her statement, anguish having clearly stolen his voice. Behind them, Briana gaped in shock to see the two rivals crouching beside each other now.

It wasn’t long before Captain Hendallen and some of the rank and file were on the scene, taking statements and clearing the air. She squinted crossly at Eric. “You need to get looked at and you’re on R&R for 48 hours,” she ordered. “Lyons, your job is to make sure he follows orders.”

“A tough order, Captain, but I think I can manage it,” Colin said. “Although after this case, I think R&R will be a blessing.”

“Welcome to Kirkwall,” she replied dryly. “Nice work, both of you. Head on out, we’ll take it from here.”

“Thank you, Captain.” He nodded and turned to go, before glancing back at the place where Lylia had fallen. “Such a waste,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Eric agreed, shaking his head. “But maybe some good will come from it.” He nodded at the previously feuding cousins, and Briana hovering in the background.

“I hope so,” Colin agreed, although his voice was tight with worry. “Lylia said something before she died that has me concerned, though - that this was just the beginning. The beginning of what exactly?”

“Yeah, and who’s Samuelson?”

“I don’t know. But whatever Lylia had planned - whoever she thought could lead this city and was willing to kill to see them do so - I’m not eager to meet them.”

“No... me neither.” Eric sighed. “Well, at least we can give Dr. de L’Acier and Laurence some closure. That’s something.”

“Indeed it is. They deserve that much.” The two detectives began walking out of the estate which was now a crime scene. “After all of this, who do you suppose will end up being the seneschal?” he wondered idly.

“Honestly, I’m not sure I care. Gaston may decide that the price was too high, but Celeste might decide that she owes him. I guess we’ll see.”

“Perhaps, now that they see what depths their feuding brought them to, this whole thing will lead to a reconcile between them.” He snorted. “Stranger things have happened.”

“True, especially in this city. You ready to run screaming back to Ferelden yet?”

Colin couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not especially, no. As strange as this sounds, I feel like I belong here. Whatever’s coming, I want to be here to see it through.”

“Good.” Eric gave him a nod as they reached the car. “Something tells me I’m going to need your help.”

The younger detective smiled. “Well, I am your partner,” he said. “And that’s what partners do.”

“I’ll drink to that, Curly. Well - after I get checked over, that is.”


	5. The Topaz Promise, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When an IA officer comes to them for help, detectives Varras and Lyons know they're in for a wild ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to point out that I actually had very little to do with this installment. AB wrote most of it by herself, with only bits and pieces of contribution from yours truly. Honestly, I'm very proud because she did a bang-up job.

The sun was just starting to rise, watery through the grey clouds, but Colin Lyons had been up for hours by that time. If he was being honest, he hadn’t really slept much in the first place; but then again, it felt like he never did. The pain came and went - and this weather didn’t help anything - but the nightmares seemed constant, chasing him awake at all hours of the night, shaking and sweating. This night was no exception, and when sleep did not return, he found himself wandering through the white streets of the City of Chains, his steps taking him to the Chantry.

The building was always open, the clerics desperately trying to minister to the faithful and the sinners alike. Sometimes, Colin thought, it was difficult to tell which was which. He made his way into the dim, silent space and knelt before the statue of Andraste, grimacing as his stiff knees rested against the stone floor.

“ _In this the truth is found_ ,” he said aloud, his quiet voice magnified by the emptiness of the room. “ _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just..._ ”

He remembered with crystal clarity kneeling before an altar very much like this one and reciting that verse in solemn oath as he was sworn in as an officer of the law in Ferelden. The Chantry in Greenfell was smaller than this one and smelled heavily of pine, but when he closed his eyes he could somehow almost mistake them for the same place. That moment felt so long ago somehow, even though it wasn’t truly. It had been mere weeks since he’d arrived in Kirkwall, after all.

He supposed being kept busy had helped to dilute the passage of time, like watering down strong whiskey with tap water. Almost instantaneously, he had been thrust into the rhythm of the Kirkwall PD on the Germain case; even though the case was closed, its rippling after effects were still being felt throughout the city. For days after the fact, the city buzzed like a kicked hornet’s nest with rumors, each more incredible than the last. While those adjacent to the crime pulled out of the limelight, people in the streets speculated who among the feuding cousins had won and what had happened to the judge and the deceased district attorney. Some said Bernard had won, others Celeste; others claimed the journalist Briana was maneuvering behind the scenes, while still others thought her absence proved she’d been taken out by one or both of the cousins. There were those who claimed that she and Celeste had put aside their grievances and were back together. A very few said – or maybe hoped – that all three parties would come together for the good of the city.

At the end of the day, it hardly seemed to matter who won the seneschal position, for it was clear that other things were brewing in the city, and that fact made Colin and his partner, Eric Varras, uneasy. Judge Germain’s murder and Lylia Charron’s suicide were more than just collateral damage in the Orlesian “Game.” For a start, the judge had been replaced, as Veronique had expected, with a woman by the name of Judith Stendahl, who did not share the former judge’s reputation for compassion; Lylia’s replacement in the district attorney’s office had not yet been chosen, but it was just a matter of time.

The entire thing still didn’t sit right with the detectives down at the Viscount’s Keep. Just what had Lylia’s plan been? Just who had she been working with? And what forces would fill the vacuum her actions had caused? Colin feared the answers, just as he feared so many things these days.

He continued to pray for the next hour or so, although sometimes the words in his mind gave way to silent contemplation as he listened to the promised rain pound the Chantry roof. He cursed the dampness and the way it found every old combat wound, no matter how small, perpetually reminding him where he came from and why he had left. But the rain, at least, ceased, if not the pain and disquiet in his mind, so he forced himself to creep from the quiet space. He should be getting to the station soon; otherwise Eric would be wondering where he had gone. So, turning up his collar, he swept out of the Chantry, peering up and down the long street that would lead to his destination. A faint drizzle stung his eyes as he did so and gave everything a slightly melted look. Maybe that was obscuring his vision, playing tricks with his mind, but he couldn’t help but feel like someone or something was watching him. Practically of its own accord, he could feel his hand inching towards his belt where he kept his sidearm.

“I know you’re there,” he growled, his voice low and threatening to whatever may be lurking in the shadows. “Show yourself.”

For a long, tense moment, nothing replied. Colin’s fingers twitched over his gun, ready to draw it and confront whatever was waiting, when another sound caught his ears.

“Curly. Curly? Thedas to Curly, you’re going to wreck your hair if you keep standing out in the rain like this.”

The sense of disquiet in the air seemed to dissipate at once as Colin turned to find his partner regarding him curiously. The older detective was dressed in his usual long duster, rain rolling off the brim of his customary fedora as he hunched against the steady trickle of water.

“Oh, Eric. What are you…?”

“I’m starting to get to know your routine.” Eric shrugged. “Figured you’d be here, so thought I’d stop by on my way to the station, see if you want a lift. Especially in this weather. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate the rain?” He paused then, seeming to take note of Colin’s lingering unease. “You okay, kid?”

“I’m fine. I just thought…” He glanced over his shoulder back up the street. Whatever might have been there seemed to be gone. He gave himself a deliberate shake. “It’s nothing. Just my imagination running away with me.”

He was almost able to convince himself that was the case. Almost. But something in the back of his mind was telling him otherwise, some sense that he could not ignore. His senses had kept him alive on more than one occasion, and even as he followed Eric to the other detective’s car so they could make their way to the keep, he couldn’t quite escape the sense of growing dread.

* * *

“There you two are,” said Captain Hendallen, almost the minute they crossed the threshold of the barracks. “I was ready to send a search party out for you.”

“Why do I get the sense we’re needed for something?” Eric said, shrugging his coat off and hanging it on the rack by the door. “Did someone try to make off with the President of Ferelden’s prized ‘Still Life With Cheese’ painting again?”

“I wish I could say it was that pleasant. Or that simple.” She folded her arms over her chest. “It’s Internal Affairs, actually. One of their agents wants to speak to you both.”

Eric grunted. “What, is this about the Germain case again?”

“We’ve already spoken to IA about the whole thing twice,” Colin said, sounding slightly exasperated. “I know they’re just doing their jobs, especially since the perpetrator is dead, but her death had nothing to do with us.”

“It’s not about the Germain case,” Hendallen interrupted. “I get the distinct impression it’s about something else. The agent who wants to speak with you is waiting in your office.”

That got the detectives’ attention and they exchanged a puzzled look, immediately moving toward the closed door of their shared office.

“Well, no one can accuse us of leading boring lives,” Eric remarked, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Maker forbid,” Colin said dryly, although his face bespoke of some nervousness. “What do you think this is all about?”

“No idea. Suppose we’ll find out in a minute.” His hand hovered over the doorknob for just a second before he twisted it, and they entered to find a strange woman seated in a chair that had clearly been left for her.

The woman in question stood at the sound of the door opening and drew herself up to full height. She was tall with an intense gaze and dark hair, which was wrapped around her head in a thick braid. Even clad as she was in a businesswoman’s blazer, the squareness in her shoulders, the rigidness in her posture, and the scars that lined her face made it clear she had been a soldier in another life. She wasn’t the sort of dame whose face promised trouble; rather; hers was the kind of face that promised trouble for the troublemakers. It was almost enough to make Eric take a step backward.

“Detectives,” she said, and her voice betrayed her Nevarran heritage. “My name is Alexandra Pendragon, agent with the Bureau of Internal Affairs… and I need your help.”

For a moment, both men merely blinked in some confusion. It was Eric who broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, “I must have heard that wrong. You’re saying _you_ need help from _us_?”

“I am.”

“But you IA types never need help from anyone. You can hardly ever be bothered to come out of your ivory tower and mingle with us lowly flatfoots unless something goes wrong.”

Officer Pendragon made a noise of disgust in reply, but she didn’t quibble with the assessment. It was, after all, an axiom in their line of work that when Internal Affairs came down to your precinct, it meant trouble.

“This is a very serious matter, Detectives,” she said tersely. “I wouldn’t trust this to just anyone. Not even my own people.”

“We understand, Officer,” Colin said placatingly. “Please, tell us what’s wrong.”

Sighing, Alexandra resumed her seat, the two men leaning against their own desks so they could listen to her explanation.

“It’s our commanding officer,” she began. “Chief Lucian Corvus, the head of Internal Affairs. He’s been… acting strangely here of late.”

“Strange?” said Colin, poised to take notes. “How so strange?”

“Not showing up for meetings, dismissing concerns brought to him out of hand, treating those who work under him as inferior.” She shook her head. “He’s always been a decent man, one concerned with justice and fairness, so this behavior is very uncharacteristic of him. And now I haven’t heard from him in the past several days.”

“You think he’s gone missing?”

“I don’t know if I would go that far, but…” Alexandra’s voice trailed off. “Something does not feel right here. I’ve tried to get in touch with other IA officers throughout the Free Marches, but there hasn’t been any word back yet. I can’t investigate this the way I would want, not when it’s my own department. But I know you both could.”

Eric regarded her like she had just started singing the Chant in Qunlat or something. “You want us, members of the Kirkwall PD, to stick our noses into IA business when even you’re hesitant to do so? What else would you like us to do? Shout ‘fire’ in a crowded Chantry? Ooh, or maybe jump into the harbor and try to swim ashore. What do you think, Curly, got any suggestions for other incredibly stupid ideas?”

Alexandra huffed. “I know what I’m asking you to do is not something to be undertaken lightly. I know that Internal Affairs has few friends in the police departments of Thedas. But if something has gone wrong, it needs to come to light. Contrary to what you might think, it is not the goal of IA to dog the police; we’re all in this together. Will you help me?”

Eric relented. “Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted, raking a hand through his hair. “All right, Seeker, you got yourself a deal. We’ll help.”

“Thank you.” She breathed a visible sigh of relief, then raised her eyebrow at Eric. “‘Seeker?’”

“You’re seeking the truth. It seems like a good nickname.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “I suppose I am at that.”

* * *

They spoke with Officer Pendragon for a short while longer, as she passed on any intelligence she could give them regarding Lucian or the other IA officers she had tried to contact.

“It seems to me like the first step would be to establish a timeline,” said Colin, after Alexandra had taken her leave. “IA is headquartered in Val Royeaux, so perhaps they can tell us more about Chief Corvus’s recent whereabouts.”

“Your logic is good, but if they stonewalled Seeker when she’s one of their own, what makes you think we’ll have any better luck?” Eric mused.

“Officer Pendragon said she couldn’t investigate her own people… maybe the fact that she’s IA is exactly why she couldn’t get any information. Maybe she’s being kept at arm’s length for a reason. Could there be corruption in the ranks and they’re worried she’ll ferret it out?”

“There’s always a chance for corruption in the ranks, Curly.”

“You raise a good point there. Let me call the Bureau in Val Royeaux, see if they can give us any more information to go on and we’ll take it from there.”

“You want to call Orlais voluntarily?” Eric teased.

“And here I had been hoping that our last case was the last we would have to deal with Orlesian politics for a while.”

“With all the Orlesian influence in Kirkwall? Keep dreaming. But points for optimism. Go make your phone call; while you do, I think I’m going to have a look into some of these concerns Seeker said Lucian is dismissing out of hand. Even something little might point the way to something bigger.”

Both detectives withdrew to their mutual corners in order to set about these tasks, but it became apparent very quickly that neither of them were having much luck. Within the hour, they both seemed more frustrated than anything.

“Well,” said Colin at last, “I’ve made a few phone calls and they’ve all yielded about the same – which is to say, nothing helpful. Every source I’ve talked to so far says that the chief was last seen in Val Royeaux, but days ago. Since then, nothing.”

“And they don’t find that odd?” Eric wanted to know.

“Not especially. Internal affairs isn’t structured like we are, they don’t have commanding officers at individual precincts. More often than not, each department has a few officers, all of whom report back to Lucian. If there’s an issue somewhere in another department, he’ll go there to take care of it and sometimes won’t report back into the home office for days.”

“Huh. Well, if that’s the case, someone somewhere has to have heard from him. I’m more concerned with the fact that Seeker hasn’t been able to get in touch with some of her fellow officers.”

“That’s been troubling me as well. Either they’re deliberately keeping her in the dark or else there’s some reason why they can’t get in touch with her, and neither option is good.” Colin shook his head. “At any rate, did you find anything that might be of use?”

“Not a whole lot. I did look into what Seeker said about Lucian dismissing his officers when they try to bring problems to him, but even those things don’t share a whole lot in common – they’re from departments all over Thedas, they’re about gang activity, money issues, a little bit of everything. Even his reasons for dismissing them are all different.”

“Blast.” Colin sighed, leaning back in his chair as he considered things. “There has to be some reason he would turn aside so many cases. And there has to be something to indicate where he’s gone – he’s not a ghost, he still has to interact with the world, even if he’s visiting other departments.”

“We just have to widen our net is all. We’ll keep calling around – I’m sure Seeker is still working her angles too. We’ll figure out if anyone’s heard from him, seen him, waited on him in a restaurant or rented him a hotel room.”

“And after we’ve done that, we’ll figure out what’s behind his strange behavior. Alexandra’s right, for all the bad blood between the force and the members of Internal Affairs, we’re all working together for the same purpose.” His voice was barely more than a whisper as he added, “ _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter_ …”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Well, at any rate, I’ll reach out to some of my contacts throughout the city and beyond. Maybe they can help fact find.”

* * *

Important as it was, Alexandra’s case was not their only case, and so for the rest of the day they did their best to balance the investigation while also working on their other responsibilities. Once again, duty helped time pass by quickly and before either detective knew it, another day had slid by, the next one heralded by a cloudy morning just as the last had been. And once again, Colin was making his way to the Chantry after another sleepless night. It was starting to become a well-worn pattern and the benign statue of Andraste was starting to become his closest companion. As he knelt before her once more, lighting one of the numerous candles at her feet, he let his lips shape a different prayer.

“ _Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond, for there is no darkness in the Maker’s light and nothing that he has wrought shall be lost_.”

He wasn’t alone. It took him a few minutes to realize it, trying desperately to drown his thoughts in prayer as he was, but gradually the notion dawned on him that there was someone else nearby. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the sensation and he remembered the way he had felt the previous day, standing outside of this very Chantry and thinking someone had been there watching him. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head in the direction from which he sensed the other presence. It was slight, a mere flash of movement almost just out of the corner of his vision.

“Detective?”

Colin heaved a sigh of relief. It was only Nicolas.

This had become something of a regular occurrence in the days following their last case. The young boy who had helped them so much kept his word and occasionally stopped by the precinct to see them. Everyone at the barracks liked him, so he was always welcome to stay there, get some food, and warm up before his desire to care for his animal charges led him back out into the streets of Darktown. Never before had Nicolas come to seek him out in this venue, however.

“Nicolas. You can’t just appear like that,” he admonished gently, although there was no trace of anger in his voice as he stood, untensing. “You gave me a bit of a start.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your prayer,” the boy explained. “I was hiding. But when I saw it was you, I knew I was all right.”

“You were hiding?” Colin repeated. “Why are you hiding in the Chantry, my boy?”

Nicolas shivered. “The alley ran red. Not blood, but _Red_ – anger, rage, hatred. They took him away, they thought no one saw. But I was there, feeding my cat friends. I saw it.”

Colin’s brows furrowed in confused concern and he reached out to place a steadying hand on Nicolas’s shoulder. “Who? Who was taken away? What did you see, Nicolas?”

“I don’t know him,” Nicolas replied. “Young. Too young for such things. Older than me but with young eyes like brown stars. They pushed him into a car and drove away. I can show you where.”

“A kidnapping…” Colin said, more to himself than to Nicolas. Then, turning back to face the boy, he nodded. “Yes, take me there.”

The boy likewise nodded and in short order they were making their way back through the streets of Hightown, down dark alleys that were just starting to grow grey with pre-dawn shadows, their steps taking them into Darktown.

“Here,” Nicolas said at last. Colin recognized this alley very well – it was where they had first discovered Nicolas, and where he lived despite the police’s best attempts to get him to go somewhere safer. “This is where they took him. Then they drove off, that way.” He pointed down the alley.

Colin crouched on the ground, examining the pavement for a moment. There were definitely tire tracks here, but not much of anything else that would help.

“Did you get a good look at the people who did this?” he asked, getting to his feet once more.

Nicolas shook his head. “No. There were three of them and whoever was driving, but I couldn’t see their faces.”

“But you said you saw the boy they took? Do you think you could describe him to a sketch artist?”

At this, Nicolas hesitated. “I’m afraid,” he admitted shakily. “That’s why I came to you. I don’t want anyone to hurt me.”

“No one is going to hurt you, Nicolas,” Colin assured him, placing both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure of it, you have my word.”

“You and Detective Varras will protect me? You’ll make sure no one hurts me?”

“Of course we will.”

“And you’ll make sure the boy who was taken is found again?”

Colin nodded. “Yes. But we need your help for that. Will you come with me to the station so we can talk to my captain and to Detective Varras about what you saw?”

There was a brief pause during which Nicolas seemed to steel himself. “I want to help,” he said at last. “Yes, I will come.”

Colin released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you, Nicolas.” One hand still on the boy’s shoulder, he reached for his cell phone to call dispatch and within a moment, he was identifying himself to the dispatcher on the other end.

“How can I help, Detective?” she asked.

“I’m down in Darktown,” he said, rattling off the nearest address he could approximate to give her at least some semblance of an idea of where he was. “I have an eyewitness who saw a kidnapping.”

“Understood. We’ll get people down there immediately.”

“Very good. I’ll hold down the fort until you arrive.”

The dispatcher was as good as her word. As the sun rose over the boxy city blocks, Colin and Nicolas were joined in short order by a few of the city’s finest, armed with cameras and evidence bags and a drive to find the truth. Colin brought them up to speed with the scant information he could provide, sighing as he looked up and down the quiet alleyway.

“Darktown never sleeps,” he remarked. “Just in this alley alone there has to be half a dozen bars and nightclubs that operate through the night. Perhaps someone saw something.”

“Yes, Ser, we’ll question the owners at once,” said one of the officers.

“In the meantime, I need to get back to the station.” He glanced at Nicolas. “I need to let the captain know about this and see if we can get a sketch of the young man who was taken. That should help you when you pound the pavement.”

Alexandra, he was sure, would understand that this took priority. The return of this young man and Nicolas’s safety as a witness were their responsibility; he didn’t know Alexandra very well yet, but he got enough of an impression of her to tell that she believed the same thing.

He left the other officers there to scour the scene while he made his way back to headquarters with Nicolas in tow. In spite of how many times Nicolas had entered this place, he seemed nervous to be doing so now in light of what he was coming to do. But he seemed soothed by Colin’s presence and allowed himself to be herded inside to where Eric waited.

The older detective was nursing a cup of coffee when they entered, his eyes scanning a report as he did so, but he looked up at once at the sound of their approach. “There you are, Curly. And you brought the kid with you too.” He took in the sight of their dour expressions and his own expression tightened. “Something the matter?”

“Nicolas witnessed a kidnapping,” Colin explained. “A young man, taken from the alley in Darktown by four unknown assailants. He didn’t see them, but he did see the young man. I’m taking him to talk to the sketch artist now.”

Eric was on his feet at once. “I’ll let Hendallen know. You got people down there?”

Colin nodded. “Yes. Dispatch might have already let her know.”

“They did,” said the captain, entering the room at that moment. Her expression for Nicolas held nothing but compassion. “You’re very brave for agreeing to help us,” she told him. “And don’t worry, it’s going to be very simple. Just describe what you saw and we’re going to draw it out so we can help find the boy. The detectives and I will be with you the whole time.”

“And you’ll protect me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and Colin was privately a little proud of the conviction in Nicolas’s tone.

“We will,” the captain vowed, placing a hand on Nicolas’s shoulder and leading him into the other room, Eric and Colin trailing behind him.

* * *

It took some time, but eventually the “boy with eyes like brown stars” was given form by the sketch artist’s pencil. He was, as Nicolas had said, not very old – maybe in his early twenties at the most – with soft, sad eyes and an almost military-style haircut with just the faintest traces of stubble around his angular jaw.

“Well, whoever he is, he’s definitely not someone we know,” said the captain when the sketch was finished. “I’ve never seen him before in all my days.”

“And you’re sure you don’t remember anything else?” Colin asked Nicolas gently.

“No.” The boy shook his head, then paused. “There _is_ something… not from when he was taken. From another day. There are always strange people in the alley where I live – they congregate, couple, count their spoils – so I didn’t think about it too much. But then the boy was taken…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “There were men in the alley a few days ago and they mentioned something. A name? Sophia.” His brow furrowed as he thought. “Sophia Perennis.”

Colin immediately wrote that down. “You’re certain, Nicolas?”

“Yes. They said it a few times, but I don’t know why.”

“Not a name I’ve heard before,” said Eric. “We’ll check into this Sophia dame, see if she has any information on what happened.”

Apart from that, Nicolas had neither heard nor seen anything else. The investigators at the scene likewise came up empty as far as anything that might help identify the kidnappers or where they had gone – the tire tracks terminated shortly after they left the alleyway and no one in Darktown was eager to talk to the law, if indeed they even saw anything in the first place. But at least Nicolas was safe in the precinct… for now. Everyone knew he would want to go back to the alleyway to take care of his cat friends.

“Riley and I will keep an eye out for him,” Hardy promised, once she had been briefed on the situation. “For now, I’m going to take him and get him some lunch. Won’t be long.”

Once they were gone, Colin and Eric cleared their desks with a sigh, turning their attention to this latest mystery.

“It seems like this is going to be another hard-fought one,” Colin remarked.

“Aren’t they always?” Eric replied. “Come on, let’s see what we can find. The kid looks too clean cut to be a Darktown orphan, so somebody somewhere has to know him.”

“Perhaps he’s not a local,” Colin postulated. “We could check down at the docks, or put in a call to the airport.”

“The captain is on it, making sure that any point of exit in the city knows what he looks like in case his kidnappers try to take him elsewhere. In the meantime, we should-” Whatever he was going to say was swallowed up by the sound of a knock at their open door and they both turned to see Alexandra standing there, looking grim.

“Officer Pendragon,” Colin said in some surprise, getting to his feet. “I’m terribly sorry, but this isn’t the best time.”

“I understand,” she said, taking a step forward. “I wouldn’t have come unless it was of the utmost importance, but something has happened and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask for your help again. It may be important to you…” As she took another step forward, her eyes fell on the sketch of the young man, which had been set on Colin’s desk as the two detective’s spoke. “That’s – that’s Gabriel!” she gasped.

“You know this young man?” Colin asked.

“I do. He’s my trainee. I was just coming here to report him missing.”

“Seeker…” Eric looked like he was trying to choose his words carefully. “We have reason to believe a young man matching this description was the victim of a kidnapping.”

Her dark eyebrows shot up. “What?” she breathed. “Where did this happen? When?”

“Sometime this morning, as far as we can tell,” said Colin. “In an alley in Darktown.”

“Darktown? What was he doing there?” she said, more to herself than to either detective, but Colin answered regardless.

“We don’t know. Perhaps you can help us ascertain that. For a start, you said you were coming here to report him missing – what gave you that impression?”

“As I said, Gabriel is my trainee. With the other Internal Affairs agents, I have no idea what their orders might be or where they might be going, thus I can’t say with certainty if their lack of communication is worthy of suspicion or no.” She shook her head. “But Gabriel gets his orders from me; I know his whereabouts. And I trust him completely. So when he failed to show up for duty, then I knew something was surely wrong. I’ve been trying to get in touch with him since last night to no avail.”

“Have you told him about what’s been going on with Lucian?” Eric wanted to know.

“Of course, but…” Alexandra’s eyes widened. “You don’t think that had something to do with his kidnapping, do you?”

“Hard to say. If something fishy is going on with your fellow officers or with your chief, Gabriel could have stumbled across it.”

“I refuse to believe that until I have proof,” she said, nearly cutting him off. “But I must admit, this is starting to seem like something more. First losing contact with the chief, then the lack of answer from the other officers, now Gabriel…” She sounded a little panicked as her gaze roved between each of them. “Do you have any other information, Detectives? Anything about who might have taken him?”

Colin shook his head ruefully. “We had an eyewitness come and give our sketch artist the information about Gabriel, but he didn’t see anything else, I’m sorry. But we promise, we’ll do everything in our power to make sure he’s returned safely and to make sure the people who did this are brought to justice.”

“And if this really is all connected, we’ll get to the bottom of it,” Eric added.

Alexandra nodded, evidently trying to steady herself as she did so. “Thank you, detectives,” she said at last. “Internal Affairs is my family, but this goes beyond just that now. Gabriel is my charge, it is my duty to protect him. I can’t let anything happen to him. I just… I _can’t_.”

“I understand,” Colin said. “Maybe you can help us by telling us a little more about him? It might help us understand why he was in that alley in the first place. Maybe he was trying to investigate a lead or had some information that you didn’t yet know about. Every little bit helps.”

She nodded again and, taking a seat, began to do just that. Even if the information proved not to be useful, it at least seemed to be offering her some peace of mind to speak about her protégé. He was, by her account, a model student – bright, good at what he did, and confident, but at the same time always eager to learn from her, sometimes to the point of hanging on her every word.

“He was always under the impression that I had something to teach him,” she said, and even in light of the circumstances, she couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought. Almost immediately, however, her expression fell. “I just wish this was one time in which he hadn’t listened to me. If he tried to pick up what I started and get to the bottom of the chief’s disappearance, I fear what he may have stumbled into.”

“If anything, this proves you were both on the right track,” Colin said gently. “We have every officer in this city and beyond looking for him, we’ll find him, Officer.”

She gave him a grateful sort of look. “I have every faith the Maker will lead him safely through this ordeal. The Maker and Gabriel’s own intelligence. If only he had been able to leave some sort of clue for me to follow… but in the heat of the moment, even the best officers aren’t always able to do such a thing.”

“We have people combing that scene,” said Eric. “If there’s anything to find, we’ll find it. And we do have a bit of a lead, might not be anything, but might be worth checking out – our eyewitness heard some shady characters mentioning a woman. What was it, Curly? Sophia something…”

Colin immediately began flipping through his notes. “Sophia Perennis,” he said, and looked up in time to see the way Alexandra startled a little.

“Sophia Perennis?” she repeated. “You’re certain?”

“Very. Does that name mean something to you, Officer Pendragon?”

“It does,” she said, her voice thick with shock. “But it’s not a name.”

“You want to share with the rest of us, Seeker?” Eric prompted.

“ _Sophia perennis_ is a Tevene phrase meaning _absolute truth_. If your eyewitness heard that phrase, then I might have an inkling of who took Gabriel.” Her jaw clenched. “There is a gang known as the Order of Fiery Promise, and they use that phrase as their motto. We have been after them for years.”

“IA has been after a gang?” Eric’s brows furrowed. “That’s not usually IA’s thing.”

“In this case we make an exception, for they are an exceptional case. They are not simply the type of gang that you expect to find wandering the streets of Kirkwall – they’re fanatics. They believe _they_ are the true force for justice and that we are merely standing in their way. The entire ‘order’ was established by a turncoat police officer who was outed as dirty by Internal Affairs many years ago, so they still carry a special grudge just for us.”

“Fanatics,” Eric grumbled. “Why does it always have to be fanatics?”

“Why hasn’t Internal Affairs been able to put them down?” Colin wondered.

“We’ve tried more times than I can count,” Alexandra said. “Every time we think we’ve cut the head off of the snake, they return – and they are as far flung as we ourselves are in the agency.”

“Well, it seems like they may have finally made it to Kirkwall,” said Eric.

“Indeed. And if they are in fact the ones who took Gabriel, I will make them pay.” Alexandra’s eyes glinted with a cold sort of determination. “But first we have to find out where they are.”

“Easier said than done, I’m afraid.” Colin shook his head.

“There must be some sort of trail, some sort of clue I’m missing,” Alexandra said, getting to her feet and stalking the room. “Gabriel’s kidnappers didn’t leave us much to go on, but the other officers that I can’t get in touch with, the chief… there must be something that can lead us to them.”

“What about this?” Eric asked, retrieving the file he had been reading when Colin and Nicolas had arrived. “It’s not much, but it’s a bank statement for a bank in Ferelden called Therinfal Redoubt. It seems that your chief has an account there.”

Alexandra took the file and peered at it curiously. “A bank in Ferelden? That seems strange. I suppose Chief Corvus could have it in case he needs to conduct business in Ferelden for any length of time.”

“Has there been any activity on the account?” Colin wanted to know.

“Not recently. But a quick look into the records proves that not long ago, a few very large sums of money were deposited there on the sly.”

“How did no one notice?”

“Someone did. That’s how we got the report. We were calling around trying to figure out if anyone had seen Lucian and one of the bank’s security guards got in touch with us to say he had seen him in the bank more than once, usually dropping off some hefty sums. The security guard seems trustworthy – actually enrolled in the Fereldan police academy. Pretty standup kid by the name of Barrett.”

Colin glanced at Alexandra. “I hate to ask you this, but do you think it’s possible that Chief Corvus came by that money through… unscrupulous means?”

“Under any other circumstances, I would have said no. But his odd behavior lately, when added to everything else that’s been going on… I can’t help but have my doubts. Is there any way to figure out where that money came from?”

“Probably not,” said Eric. “I’ve seen the Hightown nobles do this type of thing a hundred times – their money is dirty, but they shine it up, make it look like it’s come from a corporation or is part of a tax write-off or something. But in reality, the corporations are fake and the tax write-offs are phony.”

Alexandra scoffed. “Maker. Even Orlesian money wears masks,” she grumbled. “But this could explain why the chief has been ignoring some of the cases and information we’ve been bringing to him. Perhaps he was being paid to look the other way?”

“It’s certainly a possibility,” said Colin. “I’ll call around and see if Lucian has accounts anywhere else. In the meantime, let’s get in touch with that security guard again, tell him to keep an eye out. If Lucian comes back to claim that money or to add any more, we should know about it.”

“And I’ll set to work seeing if there’s anything at all that can be traced from those deposits,” said Alexandra.

“Seeker, this has entered a personal realm for you. You of all people know you shouldn’t be involved.”

“If there’s some clue that will lead to my fellow officers, I might be the only one who can find it,” she insisted, shaking her head. “My involvement may be the thing that saves Gabriel’s life. I’m going to see this through.”

Both detectives exchanged a glance, but didn’t protest. Alexandra had a way about her that seemed to suggest she would move heaven and earth to find her protégé and they neither blamed her nor were eager to stand in her way. All they could do was help her, so they set about doing exactly that.


	6. The Topaz Promise, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detectives and Officer Pendragon discover just how high up the IA problems really go, and Colin and Eric's partnership is tested.

For the next hour, they combed through what scant information they had, turning it over and over again in their minds, desperately searching for something they may have overlooked. It was just starting to seem like a fruitless endeavor and Eric was going to suggest they take a break when suddenly they were interrupted by a knock on their door. They looked up to see Riley.

“Apologies for the interruption, Detectives, Officer Pendragon, but I have something you might want to see,” he said. “We’ve been making some stops around Darktown like Detective Lyons suggested, and we’ve just had the most interesting discussion with the pawnbroker.”

“The one in Darktown? He agreed to help you with your inquiry?” Colin looked surprised.

“For a price, of course.” Riley sighed. “He’s hoping that by helping us, he can get in our good graces. He has a hearing next month for a stolen goods charge, I suspect he’s hoping we might help him out a little.”

“Absolutely not!” Colin balked. “I have half a mind to go down there right now and arrest him for attempted bribery!”

“Easy, Curly,” Eric said placatingly. “Sometimes you’ve got to play ball if you want to get anywhere in this city. Besides, stealing from nobles is never wrong, or so I’m told.”

Colin huffed, but said no more on the subject, instead gesturing for Riley to continue.

“The shop owner told us a homeless man found this in the street near where the scene of the crime was.” He produced an evidence bag, which he passed to Colin. “So, we thought we’d bag it and bring it down here.”

Inside the evidence bag was a man’s ring, its thick band carved with an intricate symbol and the golden-brown gemstone in its center glistening in the light as though fire danced within its depths.

“What is that?” Colin asked. “Topaz?”

“Looks like it,” Eric said, holding the bag up to the light. “Might be a birthstone maybe?”

“Let me see.” Alexandra held out her hand and Eric passed the bag over to allow her to scrutinize it. At once, her eyes widened. “This is an Internal Affairs ring,” she said. “All IA officers have them, you receive them when you’re sworn in.”

“But you don’t have one,” Eric said, gesturing to Alexandra’s unadorned hands.

“I do, actually.” She reached into her blouse and extracted a heavy gold chain, on which hung a handsome locket and a woman’s variant of the topaz ring within the bag. They weren’t identical – like a class ring or a signet ring, some of the symbols differed between the two rings – but they were close enough to prove they were designed for the same purpose.

“Could it have been Gabriel’s?” Colin wanted to know.

“No, he’s still in training,” she said. “He won’t get one until he becomes a full-fledged officer. Which means…” Her eyes widened as the weight of her own words caught up to her.

“Which means it’s possible one of his assailants lost it,” Colin finished for her. “Or that perhaps Gabriel was able to get it off of their hands and leave it for us to find.”

“Looks like the kid was able to get us a clue after all,” Eric noted. “Someone just picked it up before we did.”

“But – but that would mean at least one of his kidnappers was part of Internal Affairs,” she said, swallowing hard. “That _would_ explain why my inquiries were being stonewalled.”

“Maker, if Chief Lucian is involved in some unsavory dealings and now we have reason to believe Gabriel was taken by a turncoat agent, this could be bad,” said Colin, exchanging glances with the other two.

Eric took a closer look at the ring. “Is it possible to know who this belongs to?” he asked. “I mean, there’s no name, but what about this symbol here?” He pointed to a strange series of markings on the side; they looked almost like the sunburst symbol of the Chantry, but something about the way it was carved suggested a more enflamed sun. “Does that mean something?”

Alexandra shrugged. “I only know the symbol on my own ring, I’m afraid – I imagine they change depending on the owner’s rank or department.”

“If we can figure out what this symbol means, we might be able to track the owner,” said Colin. “We can have it analyzed, see if we can get anything from it. It was probably touched by too many hands by this point to yield any fingerprints, but maybe there’s some other quality that can point us in the right direction – something in the symbol, something about the stone, anything.”

“Give it to the captain,” said Eric. “She’ll make sure it gets to the friendly folks with the fancy equipment. They can do a better job of it than we can.”

Given the fact that it would take time for the tech department to fully analyze all the nuances of the ring, progress on that particular lead slowed, but in the meantime, they resumed their previous assignments. Alexandra continued her attempts to track if the money in Lucian’s account came from a valid IA source, Eric began cross-referencing the list of agents Alexandra had tried to contact with the list of known IA agents throughout Thedas, and Colin turned his attention to doing a little bit of digging into the ring on his own, although with little success.

“Well,” said Eric at last, “I’ve double and triple checked the IA agents on this list. Most of them are present and accounted for, but a lot of them won’t talk. If I had to guess, I would say they’re worth looking into in more depth. Then there are the ones who seem to have gone missing – as in, you couldn’t contact them, Seeker, and no one can vouch for their whereabouts. Some of them could be out in the field and haven’t reported in yet, or something could legitimately be going on with them.”

Alexandra sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of. It’s not a big list, but it’s enough to have me worried.”

“We don’t know anything for sure and until we figure out where these Promisers are, it’s all just idle speculation. Did you find anything about the money in Lucian’s account?”

“Precious little, I’m afraid,” she said. “You were right that most of the money is nearly impossible to trace.”

“Most?”

“While the bulk of the money seems to take me into dead ends, some of it can be traced back to a conversation Chief Corvus had a few months ago regarding a donation. It seems he exchanged several letters with a someone called Samuelson on the matter.”

“There’s that name again,” said Eric, shaking his head. When Alexandra looked at him in inquiry, he elaborated, “The Germain case.”

“Right before Lylia Charron committed suicide, she told us that she and Samuelson had plans for the city,” said Colin. “What those plans entail, Maker only knows. But clearly this is part of it somehow.”

“Assuming it’s the same Samuelson. I mean, it’s not the most uncommon name out there. Maybe Riley can make some inquiries,” Eric said. “In the meantime, what have you got, Curly, anything?”

“I’ve done a little digging into the symbol on the ring,” said Colin. “As far I can tell, no IA department throughout Thedas uses this symbol. In fact, I can’t find this symbol anywhere – not in Chantry records nor any history texts.”

“Huh. Well, maybe the tech guys can tell us more. You think they’re almost done?”

“Probably,” said Colin. “I’ll take a walk down there and see what they can give me.”

“Pick up some coffee while you’re at it. Something tells me we’re in this for the long haul.”

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time they heard back about the ring, by which point the trinket had been analyzed, x-rayed, magnified, and photographed a hundred different ways. Colin returned to the office with coffee for everyone, as well as a thick file of the tech department’s findings.

“I’ve just had a very interesting conversation with tech,” he reported. “By all accounts, the ring is just a ring, no different than any of the other Internal Affairs rings.”

“Save for that symbol,” Alexandra interjected.

“And something else – there is also a carving inside the ring, a verse from the Chant.” He consulted the papers in front of him. “ _Whatsoever passes through the fire is not lost, but made eternal; as air can never be broken nor crushed, the tempered soul is everlasting._ ”

“So our perp wanted to wear a Chant verse close to him while he committed kidnapping,” said Eric. “Gotta love the hypocrisy. But it doesn’t exactly tell us anything about the guy.”

“Maybe,” said Colin. “The technicians at the lab were able to print us out an image of what the carving looked like. It’s in black and white, but you’ll notice that some of the letters look slightly darker than the others.” He turned the file around to let his two compatriots look at it. “According to the techs, those letters were carved deeper into the ring than others. Notice anything about them?”

Both Alexandra and Eric leaned in to peer at the document. The text before them read:

 _What_ **so** ever **p** asses t **h** rough the f **i** re   
Is not lost, but m **a** de eternal;   
As air can never be broke **n** **n** or crushed,   
The tem **pere** d soul **is** everlasting

Alexandra’s mouth opened and closed for a moment in wordless shock. “Those letters are the same as those in the phrase _sophia perennis_.”

“This guy was a Promiser?” Eric spluttered. “What would an Internal Affairs officer be doing with a gang like that?”

“Perhaps he was disgruntled,” Alexandra said. “Maybe he was dirty. It is possible there is corruption running deep within the department, maybe going as high as Lucian himself.”

“So let me get this straight,” said Eric, holding up a hand. “Lucian seems to be taking bribes and now he’s MIA. Then an IA trainee who may have been investigating the whole thing gets kidnapped by a group that includes at least one IA officer, whom we now can guess belongs to the Order of Fiery Promise. The Promisers want to take out Internal Affairs… I would almost say they were acting as some twisted form of vigilantes and did something to Lucian because he’s dirty. But why take Gabriel?”

“Maybe Gabriel simply knew too much?” said Colin. “He was looking into what happened to Chief Corvus as well. Perhaps he discovered what was going on in Therinfal Redoubt and in the process stumbled upon the Promisers’ plan.”

“The Promisers are just as crooked,” Alexandra protested. “If the chief really is taking bribes, that would be tame compared to what the Promisers do.”

“Who can say what goes through fanatics’ heads, Seeker?” Eric lifted his arms in a shrug. “Maybe they thought outing what Lucian has done would turn public opinion against the legitimate forms of law enforcement in this city and they could swoop in. I hear swooping is bad.”

“It would certainly be bad for Kirkwall,” Colin mused. “This city already stands on a razor’s edge when it comes to keeping the chaos at bay. Pull one block out, the whole tower could fall, and all our enemies know it.”

“It makes as much sense as anything we’ve heard so far,” she admitted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But if we want to keep them from accomplishing this chaos, we need to find them. And I have a feeling this symbol will help point the way.”

“You think it might be an identification of some sort?” Colin guessed.

“Something like that. If this man was a Promiser like it seems he was and this symbol was on his ring, it might be some way of letting other Promisers identify each other – you’ll remember they cross borders, I doubt they would all know each other without some such method. I’m wondering if perhaps they use this symbol to call each other to action as well.”

“That’s not a bad theory, Seeker,” said Eric. “We can get our people on it, have them keep their eyes out for it or for their motto showing up anywhere. Kirkwall is a big city,” he added, seeing the look of doubt that flickered in her eyes. “I know you want to kick down some doors until you find Gabriel, but this is the best course of action.”

Eric was right, and Alexandra obviously knew he was right, but that didn’t stop her from looking ill at ease even as she nodded.

* * *

With this new information, the two detectives and their IA ally made their way to speak to Captain Hendallen.

“I’ll get every officer in the city looking for this symbol,” she promised, taking the file once Colin had finished presenting the findings. “In the meantime, I’ve had a visit from the new district attorney, who would like to meet with you both when the investigation is over. He comes highly recommended by Judge Stendahl, so take from that what you will.”

“Does he now?” Eric said dryly. “I’m sure he’s a delight then.”

“He wants to meet with us?” Colin said, lifting an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

Hendallen shrugged. “Whatever it is, it’s far less important than your investigation, but I thought I would mention it. Let him cool his heels until we’ve closed this case, then at least pay him a visit. Here’s his card.”

She handed them a glossy business card, which Colin accepted, then immediately paled. Seeing his expression, both Alexandra and Eric glanced over his shoulder to see what had grabbed his attention, then adopted similar expressions. In red embossed letters, the card read: _Russell Samuelson, District Attorney._

“Something wrong?” Hendallen inquired.

“Nothing, ma’am,” Colin managed, swallowing hard. “Nothing we can prove.”

It seemed more than mere coincidence that Samuelson’s name would appear twice in the same investigation, and the detectives were tempted to agree to his mysterious meeting right away to get to the bottom of things. But coincidence or not, the only things they had to go on where he was concerned were the final words of a madwoman and a letter to Lucian that was not technically illegal. So while the whole thing smacked of something deeper, Colin’s assessment was correct, and thus they abandoned it in the short term - especially since their search for the Promiser symbol yielded far faster results. By early evening that same night, they were interrupted by Hardy all but sprinting into their office.

“I’ve got something,” she panted. “We found the symbol spray painted to the side of an abandoned warehouse in Darktown.”

“Good work, Freckles,” said Eric. “That explains what Gabriel was doing there. Who in their right minds makes use of a warehouse in Darktown unless they’re up to no good?”

“Believe it or not, it used to be legitimate,” Hardy replied. “The warehouse used to belong to a Ferelden businessman by the name of Loren back in the day, but he hasn’t had it over ten years. After the deaths of his wife and son in Highever, he became a recluse and his business pretty much dried up. The warehouse has been going to seed ever since.”

“A place like that in a city like this?” Eric snorted. “No one would ever think to look.”

“Seems like a likely candidate for where they might be,” said Colin. “And I would be willing to bet they’re keeping Gabriel there.”

“Then that is where I need to go,” Alexandra said, already reaching to holster her weapon. “A raid in the middle of the night, when they least expect it.”

“You? By yourself?” Eric shook his head. “No, Seeker, you need backup if you’re going up against these fanatics. We’ll come with you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” she said immediately. “Depending on what we find there, I would be asking to you risk not only your careers, but your lives.”

“It’s what we do.” Eric shrugged. “And it’s nothing we’ve not done before. Isn’t that right, Curly?”

Colin nodded. “We’ve come this far. We’ll see it all the way through.”

Alexandra paused, then finally nodded her acquiescence. “Very well then. Tonight we bring an end to this, once and for all.”

* * *

Night had blanketed the streets of Kirkwall when Colin, Eric, and Alexandra made their way down to the location. They attempted to be as discreet as possible – after all, law enforcement had plenty more enemies than just the Promisers lurking among the dirty streets of white stone and they couldn’t afford to have their hand tipped now. Luckily, those that prowled the streets seemed to have better things to do than pay them any heed and they managed to slip through down the alleyways into Darktown with little issue.

From there, it wasn’t difficult to find the building in question; its faded sign proved that once it had been legitimate, but its broken windows and the graffiti proved that it hadn’t been such a thing in a long time. Even with all the decay that littered it, was easy to spot the fiery sun symbol that had been spray painted on the side, marking it as the place where the Promisers were set to be gathered. Alexandra caught their eye and nodded. Then, she opened the door and pointed her gun into the darkness, slipping inside with the detectives right behind her.

The place seemed deserted, but they always _seemed_ deserted. Thus the trio made their way through it with extreme caution, their steps silent as they crept through the darkness, their weapons in hand. Alexandra was running point through the place as if she knew it like the back of her hand, covering them around corners with a precision that obviously came from her military training. In this manner, they continued onward, finding nothing for a long time until at last they came across a silhouette in the blackness. Suddenly she held up her fist, signaling them to stop as she bent to investigate.

The silhouette turned out to be a body and as Alexandra examined the man, she gasped a little in the silence to discover the topaz ring, identical to her own, that adorned his right hand.

“This man was an Internal Affairs officer?” Colin whispered.

“Damn,” Eric growled, shaking his head. “This is going to get ugly.”

Alexandra stood, and even in the darkness they could tell her jaw was fiercely clenched. “The Promisers will pay for this,” she hissed. “I swear, if they’ve harmed Gabriel in any way…”

“He’s all right, Seeker,” Eric said. “The kid seems tenacious. It’ll take more than these Promiser bastards to bring him down.”

She nodded, though whether in agreement, gratitude, or simply acknowledgement, it was hard to tell.

They continued forward for a long while down the dark corridors of the warehouse. The years had not been kind to Loren’s one-time holdings; vines crept in through every crack, the floor was carpeted with loose stones and decaying plants, and the roof had caved in in several places, giving them an unabridged view of the stars above. It added to the sense of unearthly stillness that permeated the place and the tenseness of their task, causing their senses to heighten with every passing second. But for several minutes, they saw no one else, whether dead or alive, until at last Alexandra peered down a corridor and once again signaled for her compatriots to stop.

In a moment, it became obvious why – just around the corner was a door that, unlike the others they had passed, was guarded by two men. The fact that this door and this door alone had a guard seemed to make it a good candidate for the place where they would finally discover their quarry and the light in Alexandra’s eyes said she knew it.

She caught Colin’s gaze and an understanding passed between them. She held up her hand and made a series of gestures – military gestures that he understood only too well, and he nodded again.

 _We’re going_ , he mouthed to Eric. _Cover us._

Leaving Eric to guard the corridor, the other two fanned out; Colin remained where he was, his back pressed up against the wall while Alexandra, with an unexpected quickness, all but danced through the darkness to stand across from him, her back likewise hunched. She waited, then chanced a look down the corridor and gestured to Colin. Together they crept down the hallway and by the time the guards realized they had company, both of the former soldiers had pistol-whipped their foes, leaving them unconscious.

“That’s going to leave a mark,” said Eric, joining them a moment later and glancing down at the two men. “Go on, I’ll watch the hall; you go see what these two numbskulls were guarding.”

“I have a feeling I know,” Alexandra said, wasting no time in wrenching open the door. Even knowing what she would likely find, she immediately let out a gasp.

Bound and gagged in a chair in the center of the room was a young man, his head slumped against his chest. He was unconscious and sporting a few fresh cuts and bruises, but he was alive, that much was obvious from the shallow breathing that was evident even at a distance.

“Gabriel!” Alexandra was at the young man’s side in an instant, her fingers flying through the knots that bound him and pulling the gag from his mouth. When she had accomplished this, she took his face in her hands. “Gabriel, can you hear me?”

With a groan, her protégé opened his eyes, the heavy lids sliding open to reveal the brown eyes Nicolas had likened to the stars. They were dulled now with pain and exhaustion, but they still burned, and as he took in the sight of Alexandra, they registered shock and perhaps a little relief.

“Officer Pendragon?” He blinked. “It _is_ you. I was worried they had gotten to you, done something to you.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she assured him. “What about you? Are you all right? What did they do to you?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied, and even as he coughed a little, he managed a weak smile.

“It’s going to be all right,” she promised. “We’re going to get you out of here. Can you walk? Do you know what happened or who did this to you?”

She went to help him to his feet when suddenly he caught her wrist. His expression morphed into one of great gravity as he looked up at her.

“Chief Corvus,” he said gravely. “You have to find him.”

“Of course we will. If he lives, we’ll…”

“You don’t understand. He’s behind this. He’s behind this whole thing. The Promisers aren’t just fanatics, Officer, they’re _us_ ,” he insisted. “That’s why they keep coming back every time we try to break them – the entire gang… it’s made up of Internal Affairs agents. Those who aren’t corrupt get lured here to be dealt with.”

Alexandra was so shocked she actually reeled back and for a moment Colin thought she might lose her balance. Even as she managed to steady herself, horror was etched on her features. In a terrible way, it somehow explained so much, and it was clear that she was thinking the exact same thing. The people who kidnapped Gabriel hadn’t just been a few bad apples, it seemed; the problem went deeper than they knew.

“Officer…” Colin said, and his tone was dripping with pity even as his mind lacked any words of real comfort.

“Now is not the time for sympathy,” she said, although there was no heat in the words, only pain. “Words can come later.”

“You have to find Lucian,” Gabriel repeated. “You have to stop him before he completely destroys the agency! There have to be some left like us. You can’t let him get to them too.”

“We won’t,” she vowed, placing her hands on his cheeks once more. “He won’t get away with this, you have my word.”

“Seeker, get the kid to safety, call for backup,” said Eric, still standing in the doorway in order to guard the exit. “Curly and I will scout ahead.” When Alexandra paused, he gestured with his head. “Go on, get him out of here. We promise not to bust heads without you.”

She nodded at that, then helped Gabriel to his feet, letting him lean on her as they made their way back out into the hall. Even supporting her protégé as she was, her eyes were alert and her freehand gripped her weapon as she disappeared back in the direction from which they had come.

“Well, Curly, looks like it’s just us,” said Eric as the younger detective joined him in the hall. “Let’s get going before anyone has a chance to realize we’re here. It’ll give the Seeker more time to get Gabriel to safety, too, and call in the cavalry.”

Colin nodded. “Thank the Maker we found him,” he said, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Thank Him once we get out of here,” Eric said. “We’ve still got work to do. But you’re right, this was a good first step. Now come on.”

 

They paused only briefly, to drag the two unconscious guards into the room where Gabriel had been held and barricade the door; then they were heading back through the warehouse, searching it thoroughly. It wasn’t an enormous place, but big enough that they might have had a bit of a job if not for the sound of voices ushering them towards the far end of the decrepit structure. When the voices grew loud enough that they could distinguish the words, Colin signaled for Eric to halt and from their safe vantage point, they assessed the situation.

They had seen enough photos of Chief Lucian Corvus to recognize him on sight and he stood, flanked by two other men, among the debris that scattered the ground from a long-ago roof collapse. Here the sky was the most obvious and early morning was beginning to creep in over top of them, turning the shadows a moist shade of grey. It might have been part of the warehouse long ago, but now it was more of a clearing than anything as nature reclaimed it and turned it into the most secretive of meeting places. Even at a distance, it was obvious that the other two men were armed, as was Lucian, it seemed, although he made no move to retrieve his weapon.

“What do you think?” Colin whispered. “Two on two, maybe two on three – dare we risk it?”

“We might have to,” said Eric. “Let’s just hope we can keep them occupied until the Seeker shows up or backup arrives.”

Colin nodded his agreement and hefted his weapon, counting down from three as the cue for both detectives to advance. On his mark, they stormed the makeshift clearing, their guns drawn.

“Kirkwall PD! Hands in the air!”

Lucian didn’t so much as flinch. Behind him, the two men pointed their guns squarely at the two detectives, who did likewise, locking them all in tense standoff.

“Greetings, Detective Lyons,” Lucian said, nodding first in Colin’s direction then in Eric’s. “Detective Varras.”

Colin’s eyes widened slightly. “How do you know who we are?”

“There is not a thing that happens in any police department throughout Thedas that I do not know about,” he replied coolly. “And I know much about you both. I know your histories, I know your records… I know your routines.” He glanced meaningfully at Colin.

“That day at the Chantry…” He recalled the way he had felt in the alley, feeling certain someone had been watching him.

“Indeed. And many other days. I have been waiting to take Kirkwall for a very long time. If ever there was a city in need of cleansing, it is this one.” As he gestured expansively, the detectives were able to catch sight of an amber-colored flash on his hand; a topaz ring, the side of which was emblazoned with a fiery sun. They exchanged the briefest of glances as if to confirm their eyes were not playing tricks on them.

“Don’t tell me, let me guess,” said Eric, shifting his gun to train on Lucian. “You couldn’t make a move against the city until you felt certain you could get away with it. And for that, you needed your buddy Samuelson to be in some sort of position. Judge Stendahl too.”

“A pity you can’t prove it.” His oddly benign expression seemed almost amused for a second before hardening. “The things the Kirkwall PD and those in positions of authority have allowed the happen underneath your noses is disgraceful. Corruption, murder, heresy – they all find purchase in these city streets. You should be ashamed. You should _all_ be ashamed!”

“We’re the only thing that keeps the whole damn city from falling apart,” Eric protested. “Without us, the decent people in this city would never have a chance.”

Lucian laughed coldly. “Once there was a time when I believed the same thing of Internal Affairs. We were a shining beacon of justice and order. We alone could fix the problems plaguing Thedas and keep in check those who would abuse their positions of power. But we became proud, arrogant. We went too far. Much like you fear you will one day do, isn’t that right, Detective Varras?”

“The only thing I fear is that you’ll monologue me to death,” Eric said dryly, although he looked as though he was chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Your mother was a drunk, your father was a cheat, and you ended up in the law.” Lucian chuckled. “You fear becoming them and so you ran as far away from what they were as you possibly could. But are you so different from them? You walk a fine line, detective – you’re not afraid to bend the rules when you must, you aren’t afraid to make contacts with those who will give you the best information, you know what this city needs. Could it be you will cross the line one day? It would be so easy to fall into those patterns of excess.”

“Everything in moderation,” Eric replied, rolling his shoulders. “Not to mention I certainly know the one thing this city doesn’t need – and that’s you and your sycophants. Kirkwall has enough problems without throwing in a bunch of IA traitors into the mix.”

“That word – traitor – loses much of its power when you see what I have seen and know what I have known. Under my leadership, the Order of Fiery Promise has become the thing this world needs to expunge the wickedness that Internal Affairs and the law enforcement agencies of Thedas should have been stamping out all along. The goal was to create a better system and instead all we did was prop up the decaying one and fight to keep our own statuses within it. We had to be stopped. My followers know this.”

“You’re no better!” Colin barked. “The bribes you took! The things you ordered your men to do!”

“You know much about following orders, don’t you, _Captain_ Lyons?” he said, his gaze shifting towards Colin. Involuntarily, Colin felt himself flinch. “Oh, yes. I know about your time in the Fereldan armed forces. I assume your captain knows the details of your honorable discharge, but does your partner?”

“Don’t listen to him, Curly, it doesn’t matter,” Eric said hastily.

“Ah. So he doesn’t know.” Lucian paced a little. “I’ll admit I’m surprised they let you join the police force with such a volatile heart condition. Tell me, Captain, was it the heart condition itself that caused you to collapse that day during your mission, or the lingering stress from the aftermath of your capture?”

“Shut. Up.” Colin’s voice was a snarl, but his eyes were cloudy with pain and his teeth gritted.

“Because that was the reason for your discharge, was it not? You have – forgive me, I am no doctor - hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, is it? Essentially, an enlarged heart, in laymen’s terms. You were lucky they found it when they did and under those circumstances. You really ought to take better care of yourself, you know. After all, your siblings have lost so much already, it would crush them to lose their brother too, the brother whom they haven’t seen in so long.”

“I said shut up!” he growled.

“There is anger in you, Detective Lyons. And that’s good. Sometimes anger is the only thing that keeps you alive. It would be so easy to let that anger consume you, it would be better than thinking of all the things you’ve done, all the things you _failed_ to do.”

“Curly, don’t listen.”

Colin’s hands shook and he forced them to be steady, his gun oscillating uneasily between Lucian and the men over his shoulders. Eric kept his own trained on Lucian’s forehead while the man continued to watch them in almost amused placidity.

“Kirkwall’s finest – the rookie and the veteran, the Chantry boy and the cynic, one by the book and the other willing to look the other way. You are diametrically opposed in every way.”

“You know what they say,” Eric retorted. “Opposites attract.”

“Do you truly think that is what is in store for you? You have come far, to be sure; but whatever destiny you thought you had is at an end. The only destiny here that demands respect is _mine_.”


	7. The Topaz Promise, Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation and aftermath, and we finally encounter Samuelson.

For a long moment no one moved – they hardly dared to breathe, locked in stalemate with each other, until an almost explosive shout rent the air.

“Chief Corvus! Stand down!”

Everyone jumped a little, save Lucian, as Alexandra charged into the clearing to stand between the two detectives. Her own weapon was raised, pointed at Lucian’s head; Eric took her arrival as an opportunity to train his gun on one of the guards instead and Colin, having recovered, did likewise to the other.

“Alexandra.” Lucian’s voice was even, almost pleasant, as if he was inviting Alexandra into a dinner party. He stared down the barrel of her gun, completely unconcerned.

“I came to find you, thinking that perhaps you had been captured by the same people who took Gabriel,” she said, her voice tight and raw with emotion. “But I come to find that you’re _responsible_? That you’re a Promiser? Please tell me it isn’t true.” Even as she said the words, her eyes went to the ring that adorned his hand.

He did not answer right away. For the first time, emotion flickered in his pale eyes. “There was no other choice,” he said finally.

Alexandra’s shoulders went slack a little like she had been physically struck, but her gun never wavered. “No other choice?” she said desperately. “Have you gone mad?”

“We are _villains_ , Alexandra, all of us,” he insisted. “We assume the mantle of authority, we claim we are the ones who watch the watchers and hold corruption at bay, even as we are consumed by that same corruption. We need to be stopped.”

“ _You’re_ the villain!” Colin snapped. “This isn’t cleansing corruption, this is bowing to it! You became the very thing you sought to stop!”

“Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify their bad decisions.” Eric grunted, clutching his gun a little tighter. “This one is a doozy.”

“So you hoped to accomplish… what? That if you destroyed the agency enough it would have to be rebuilt?” Alexandra looked heartsick and horrified all at once; but above all, her eyes flashed with white-hot anger. “That the only way to root out corruption was to punish everyone? Lucian, what you’ve done…”

“I know.” Lucian shook his head. “But we have to begin again.”

“Begin by leading your own people astray? Men and women who trusted you?” she demanded. “Even Gabriel. What did he ever do to you?”

“He was too close to uncovering the truth. You really have trained him well, Alexandra. And I knew that bringing him here would bring you in search of him.”

“Bring me?” she repeated in shock. “Why did you want me?”

“It seems not so long ago that you were my protégée,” he said. He would have seemed almost proud and paternal were it not for the fact that he was completely mad. “And you’ve become a fine officer – the best we have to offer. You would have become my successor, if that had been the path the Maker willed. But even so, you are the one I trust more than anyone else in the world. Join me, Alexandra, and help me rebuild our agency into something so much better than it has been. I know you want to see if be reborn just as much as I do.”

Alexandra did not hesitate. “I want to see it reborn, yes. But I don’t want to see it cleansed with blood in order to accomplish that. So I will say it one more time…” She cocked her gun. “Stand down.”

Lucian looked disappointed, but also not entirely surprised. He nodded, as if digesting her decision, then held up his hand in a gesture to the two men who stood behind him. However, neither of them were fast enough. In the time it took them to blink, Eric and Colin had struck each of them in the shoulder, allowing Alexandra to advance on Lucian. He seemed disconcerted for the first time since they arrived and he fumbled for his own weapon to no avail. He barely had time to curl his fingers around it when Alexandra knocked it roughly from his grasp with her own weapon.

“Lucian Corvus,” she said, forcing him roughly to the ground, “you are under arrest. Detectives, could one of you please take care of this criminal?”

Colin nodded, leaving Eric to watch over the two injured men and make sure neither of them tried anything. As he went over to relieve Alexandra of her prisoner, the look of fierce determination fell from her features and instead she merely looked tired, like she had lived through a hundred ages in the span of five minutes. The detectives could understand that.

Within fifteen minutes, backup had arrived to take hold of former-Chief Corvus and his associates, who were destined for the coziest and most secure cells the Kirkwall prison had to offer. With the apprehension of those who had been in the warehouse, the hope was that the other IA officers who made up the Order of Fiery Promise would be rooted out swiftly and with impunity, perhaps ending the gang once and for all.

Meanwhile, the paramedics had also arrived to take Gabriel to the hospital; they seemed to think he would make a full recovery after a few days of care. As he sat in the back of the ambulance and a small cluster of EMTs fretted over him, Alexandra stood not far away, watching the whole thing. More than once, she glanced to the police car where her former chief was being secured for the journey back to the station. The detectives drifted over to her side.

“Copper for your thoughts, Seeker?” Eric asked.

“He was insane,” she said, her eyes firmly on the car. “He had to be.”

“A terrible end to what was once a righteous career,” Colin said, shaking his head. “So much waste.”

“This can’t be it,” she insisted. “Gabriel’s right – there are more out there like us. I refuse to believe the entire department is either corrupt or dead.”

“With Lucian out of the way, hopefully it should be easier for you to work with your fellow officers, to remove the corruption that took hold.”

“Perhaps.” Alexandra fell silent again for a moment, her teeth working over her bottom lip. “At some point, power becomes its own master. We cast aside ideals in favor of expedience and tell ourselves it was all necessary, ‘for the people.’ I can’t help but wonder if this will all happen again, if I am trying to hold back chaos that will never end. Those who do not heed history are doomed to repeat it.”

“There will always be chaos, Seeker,” Eric said. “The real test isn’t whether or not you eradicate it all, but how you respond to it each time it comes up. That’s the world – everything you build it tears down, everything you’ve got it takes. The only choices you have are to lie down and die or keep going. So keep going. That’s all any of us can do, and have been doing.” He glanced in Colin’s direction, who gave him a grateful nod.

“But is it worth the risk?” she asked. “Maybe Lucian was right and we’re beyond redemption. Is the department worth it, after everything that happened?”

“You could make them worth it,” Colin said.

“Thank you.” Alexandra’s smile was full of gratitude and some of the pain in her eyes seemed to dissipate. Then, she glanced over at the ambulance, where the EMTs were finishing their work. “But you must excuse me. They’re taking Gabriel to the hospital and I’d like to go meet him there.”

They nodded their understanding, a gesture that she returned, then watched as she approached the ambulance to speak quietly with her trainee. Soon after, both of them had departed, leaving Colin and Eric standing in front of the abandoned warehouse in the bright morning.

“So… that was sure something,” Eric said, breaking the silence at last. “You okay, Curly?”

“I’m fine,” the younger detective said at once. “I just… I only wish you had heard those things from me instead of from that monster. I apologize.”

Eric held up a hand. “Save your sorries, kid,” he said gently. “I get it, trust me I do. That’s not easy stuff to talk about. If I was in your position, I probably wouldn’t have been eager to share either. It’s out in the open now, but that’s not a bad thing. Use it to make yourself stronger moving forward – that’s the best thing for the city you want to serve and for yourself.”

Colin nodded, but there was something a little hesitant in the gesture that spoke of a deeper disquiet in his mind. “Eric… those things he said about us as partners, about working together… you don’t think there’s any stock to them, do you?”

“You kidding? Not a chance. The things that mark us as ‘opposite’, if that’s what you want to call it, are precisely the things that make us work. Hendallen is not stupid – she never would have assigned us together if she didn’t think we were up to the task of whipping this city into shape.”

For the first time since the whole thing began, Colin allowed himself a smile. “You know, you may be right about that.”

“I’m always right,” said Eric. “And when I’m not, I lie about it. Now come on, let’s get out of here. Coffee’s on me.”

* * *

The case, while having been wrapped up in as satisfactory a manner as possible, could hardly be declared “closed”. There were a great many things that still needed attention in the aftermath of Lucian’s betrayal, things to which the detectives themselves weren’t entirely privy; they were IA matters, after all, and given that it was not their division, they were somewhat in the dark. Alexandra, their only real point of contact, had been silent for days. It made sense, of course; she did have a lot on her mind after all, what with Gabriel’s recovery and the weight of everything that it now fell to her. She was, in a sense, the acting chief, for as much as that meant anything, with the agency so fractured.

Besides, the detectives had their own problems with which to contend, not the least of which was the requested meeting with the new district attorney. Thus, a few days after their standoff with Lucian, they found themselves making their way to the Gallows to speak with Russell Samuelson in the flesh.

The Gallows was an uncomfortable sort of place and Samuelson was the perfect man to be dwelling inside of it, much like a spider fits nicely within a web. As the detectives walked into his office, he stood and gave them a smile that dripped with falseness, his glassy eyes regarding them with the type of curiosity that made the spider analogy seem entirely too apt.

“Detectives,” he greeted them. “How kind of you to finally drop by. I’m Russell Samuelson.”

“Detectives Eric Varras and Colin Lyons,” said Eric, tipping his hat. Colin merely nodded.

“I’m very pleased to put faces to the names,” Samuelson said, sitting back down. The detectives did likewise. “You’ve saved the day twice now, your reputations precede you.”

“As does yours,” said Colin. “Only we’ve heard your name mentioned before.”

“Is that so?” Samuelson’s lips curled in the beginnings of what looked like it wanted to be a sneer when it grew up.

“You came up in our first investigation. Lylia Charron said she worked with you.”

“Ah, yes, that whole business with Charron was terrible. Her absence is acutely felt; I have big shoes to fill.”

“Mm. And, interestingly enough, your name came up again in our most recent investigation. We found some correspondence you exchanged with Lucian Corvus, who I’m sure you know is the now defunct head of Internal Affairs awaiting charges up to and including murder.”

Samuelson gave a rough bark of laughter. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re implying, Detective Lyons,” he said, spreading his hands. “Then-Chief Corvus was interested in donating to a restoration fund for the Gallows courtyard, and I happen to chair a foundation he thought could help. To the best of my knowledge, it is not illegal to discuss financial matters, although I could have one of the legal clerks check.” His baby smirk hit adolescence on that last remark. Neither detective was impressed.

“We’re not implying anything,” Eric said. “Just merely pointing out some of life’s fun little coincidences. It’s a small world and all that.”

“Indeed. Well, gentlemen, I won’t take up any more of your valuable time today. I’m sure you have important things to do while you’re out there playing hero – rescuing cats from trees and the like. I just wanted to introduce myself. I think working together will prove to be a rather… interesting experience, don’t you? Judge Stendahl and I are both significantly looking forward to it.”

“Is that so?” Colin regarded the DA in suspicion, and the other man returned his gaze with an entirely untroubled expression, like a cat which has made itself comfortable in the middle of a busy corridor. “‘Interesting’ is certainly an apt word for it, I suspect. Whether or not it’s pleasant remains to be seen.”

“Of course.” Samuelson nodded and watched them both as they made to leave. “There’s one more thing before you go, detectives.” They turned back to face him and he got to his feet once more. “You may wish to tread lightly. Kirkwall is quite the city, and there is much at play in her streets. The day may come when you regret sticking your noses into every shadowed corner.”

Colin’s hackles raised at once. “Is that a threat?”

“Not at all,” Samuelson said, and his smile was barbed. “It’s a promise.”

For a minute, Colin and Samuelson stood glaring daggers at each other in tense silence before the detective elected to pull back first. “We’ll be in touch,” he said at last. “That’s _our_ promise.”

On that note, they left the Gallows, blinking in the sudden brightness as they emerged.

“Well… that was fun.” Eric said at last. “Why do I get the feeling we haven’t seen the last of him?”

“I get the same feeling,” Colin muttered in reply. “I would be willing to bet my last royal he’s the one who was bribing Lucian to look the other way on all those cases, but we can’t prove a thing.” He shook his head. “At any rate, we’re done with him for now. We should get back to the barracks before the captain misses us.”

* * *

As it turned out, Captain Hendallen was looking for them, and nearly the minute they arrived, she was calling them both into her office.

“The excitement continues,” Eric deadpanned as they followed her inside.

“Detectives,” she greeted them, gesturing for them to take a seat. As usual, they both elected to stand, leaning against the chairs as they waited for their marching orders. “This whole thing with IA has been a damned mess, but your work has been exceptional. Thanks to you and Officer Pendragon, a lot of corruption was cut out of Internal Affairs. It will take time for the department to recover, but this could have been a lot worse. The Divine is grateful to you.”

“The Divine?” Colin repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“With as many as IA officers are there are scattered across Thedas, this could have become an international incident,” the captain explained. “And considering the Order of Fiery Promise seeks to bring chaos to the world, crushing them is a great service to the entire south. The Divine is treating it as such.”

“Do you hear that, Curly?” said Eric, grinning. “We really are heroes.”

“The two of you will be getting commendation from the Divine in a private ceremony,” the captain continued. “Most Holy’s gratitude, a medal, things like that.”

“Andraste preserve me, really?” Colin’s eyes were wide, although after a moment, confusion conquered his expression once more. “Wait, the two of us? What about Alexandra?”

The captain chuckled a little, almost ruefully. “For her role in stopping the conspiracy, Officer Pendragon will likewise be given special commendation… and is being offered a role as Divine Justinia’s Right Hand.”

Both detectives exchanged a look of shock. “Seeker is going to become the Divine’s Right Hand?” Eric repeated. “That’s… big.”

“She’ll be well-suited for the role,” said Colin.

“The Divine certainly thinks so,” said Hendallen. “But that’s not the only news I have for you.”

“Don’t leave us in suspense, Captain,” said Eric.

“Thanks to your efforts, not only were Lucian, his associates, and most of the Order of Fiery Promise brought to heel, but we were able to root out several other members of Internal Affairs who were corrupt, as well as those who were working with them. This includes the four individuals who kidnapped Officer Pendragon’s trainee.”

Colin sat forward at once. “The men that Nicolas saw? You have them? You have them in custody?”

“We do.” The captain nodded. “The three who actually committed the deed were heavily involved with Lucian’s plans. We’ll be able to convict them easily.”

“Three,” Eric repeated. “What about the fourth?”

“The fourth individual was the getaway driver, a young IA officer, not much older than the victim himself,” she said, and slid his mugshot across the table. He was a baby-faced individual who looked like he was barely old enough to shave, let alone carry a badge, and even in the picture he looked like he was scared stiff. Prison would probably eat him alive. “As far as we can tell, this is the first time he’s ever stepped out of line. He doesn’t even have a parking ticket.”

“What are you telling us here, Captain?” Colin wanted to know.

“The kid isn’t talking,” she said. “He’s so terrified he’ll barely even string two words together. And the evidence isn’t as strong against him as it is the others. If we _want_ to put him away…” Neither officer could ignore there was a hint of doubt in her voice when she said the word _want_. “…then we’ll need Nicolas’s help.”

“I don’t understand. All Nicolas could tell us was that there were three kidnappers plus whoever was driving. He couldn’t make out anything else apart from Gabriel himself. He wouldn’t be able to identify this boy even if he wanted to.” There was a faint edge of protectiveness in Colin’s tone.

“If Nicolas can give us something as small as what the car looked like, it could make all the difference,” the captain explained. “I know you’re not eager to have him put himself out there like this, but if he chose to speak, we would protect him, of course. You know we would.”

“Yes, I know. But still.”

“I understand. I won’t tell you what to do, Detectives. I leave this one to you.” She handed them the file that contained the boy’s mugshot and gestured that they could leave.

“Well…” said Colin when they had exited the office. ‘That was… unexpected.”

“Which part?” said Eric. “The part where we get medals pinned on us, the bit about Seeker becoming Right Hand of the Divine, or the thing with Nicolas?”

“I meant the situation with Nicolas, but all of it applies.” Colin rubbed his temples. “Maker, will we ever just have a straightforward case?”

“Probably not,” his partner replied as they began making their way down the hallway. “You want to talk about the thing with Nicolas?”

“Not particularly, but we have to. The entire thing is very unorthodox.”

“It’s because it’s Nicolas,” Eric said. “He’s special and he’s earned himself a special place in the Kirkwall PD family, so Hendallen’s giving him a little leeway.”

“But it isn’t just an issue of whether or not Nicolas comes forward; it’s an issue of whether or not we send this boy to prison.” He gestured to the file in his hand. “That is not something to decide lightly. He broke the law, helped commit a heinous act, and should be punished for it…”

“But look at him,” Eric finished for him. “It seems to me like whatever we do, our first stop has to be Nicolas.”

“I agree.”

* * *

With this decided, the detectives made their way down to Darktown in search of Nicolas. As he had told them upon their very first meeting, he was good at hiding and in the days since Gabriel’s kidnapping he had become even better at it; so it took some doing, but eventually he presented himself to them.

“Detectives, I heard you found the boy with the eyes like brown stars,” he said. “Is he going to be all right?”

“He’s still at the hospital for now, but he’s going to make a full recovery,” Colin told him.

Nicolas looked pleased by that. “Oh, good. I’m glad he’s safe.”

“A big part of why he’s safe is because of what you did to help, Nicolas,” Eric added. “In fact, that’s why we’re here – we need to ask you something. About what happened. About the men you saw.”

The boy looked a little cagey and Colin remembered how nervous Nicolas had been to come forward about the incident in the first place. He reached out to place a hand on Nicolas’s shoulder.

“We have them in custody, my boy,” he said, giving Nicolas’s shoulder a squeeze in support. “They can’t hurt you. They can’t hurt anyone. But… do you remember what you told me when you first reported the incident?”

Nicolas nodded. “That there were three who did the kidnapping and one who drove. But I didn’t see any of their faces.”

Colin likewise nodded. “Well, we have reason to believe this is the person who did the driving.” He opened the file and bent to show the boy’s photo to Nicolas, who peered at it owlishly, his blue eyes wide with thoughtfulness.

“He’s young, too young for such things,” he murmured. It was the same thing he had said about Gabriel, and he reached out to take the photo to examine it further. “He looks scared. Is he just as scared of the men who did this as I am?”

“Possibly,” said Eric. “Our captain said he’s too scared to talk to us about anything that happened. So if we want him to answer for what he did, we’ll need you to help us. I know you didn’t see him, but maybe you can tell us about the car he drove or something else that will be important.”

He said nothing; he was still peering at the photo. Then, after a long moment, he asked, “Do I have to say something? What happens if I don’t?”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” said Eric. “If you don’t say anything, that’s okay. But it’ll probably mean this guy walks.”

“What are you thinking, Nicolas?” Colin said gently.

“I’ve seen this look before,” he said after a beat. “So many wear this expression in Darktown. Gabriel wore it. I wear it sometimes. I can’t help the orphans in the alley who look like this, or the widows, or the babies that get left behind. But I can help him.” He tapped his fingers against the paper.

“We send him up the river, now,” Eric added, “he’s going to be a hardened jailbird for life. Once he’s in, he’ll be in - and he’ll be surrounded by people who might even be worse than the ones who made him drive for them. But if we let him slide, he’ll be away from those guys and he can maybe find a better path. Captain might even be able to figure out one for him.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Nicolas?” Colin asked. “You want him to go free?”

Nicolas nodded. “It is. I don’t want him to be punished – he’s been punished enough. He needs forgiveness, fairness, freedom, a second chance.” The boy studied him for a moment. “Sometimes you wear the same look as the boy in the picture, Detective Lyons. You don’t have to be afraid either. You deserve those things too.”

The corners of Colin’s mouth lifted a little at that, something soft in his gaze. He was silent for a while, then nodded. “Yes, you’re right. You’re both right. I understand what this boy went through more than I care to admit. He should go free.”

“Atta boy, Curly. You knew that in your heart of hearts, you just needed to hear it from the kid.” Eric patted Nicolas’s shoulder. “Plus for what it’s worth, I think we can bank on the fact that we’ll never see that getaway driver ever again. The men who made him do what he did are out of the equation and he’s had the fear of the Maker put into him. I have a feeling he’ll be on the straight and narrow for the rest of his life.”

“Good. We need more honest people in this city.”

“It’s not much, but it’s a start,” said Eric. “Now come on – my stomach is telling me it’s been a while since we last ate. You hungry, Nicolas? Sandwiches are on me.”

They had barely started making their way up the alleyway when they were stopped by the sight of a figure standing before them; even at a distance, it was clear it was Alexandra. She looked exactly the same as she always did and yet something in her posture was perhaps a bit straighter, like she was emulating a scarecrow. Eric couldn’t help but wonder what crows she was looking to scare.

“Seeker,” he greeted her as she met them halfway. “Or I guess I should say Right Hand now, shouldn’t I?”

She shook her head almost ruefully. “It isn’t fair,” she said. “You and your team were as instrumental in bringing Lucian to justice, if not more so. And yet I am the one given the recognition.”

“You deserve it,” Colin insisted. “You never stopped pursuing the truth and you never gave up.”

“But without you two, I have no doubt that I would have lost Gabriel,” she said softly. “You deserve something for everything you’ve done.”

Eric waved her off. “Nah, it’s what we do. If you want to do something to say thank you, why don’t you pick up drinks next time we’re at the Hanged Man?”

Alexandra chuckled. “That I can do.”

“And with Lucian gone, I imagine you’ll be taking over as the chief of Internal Affairs, so you can help us by making the department the best it can be,” said Colin.

“For a time,” she said with a sigh. “My work as the Divine’s Right Hand will take me all over Thedas. I’m hoping I can use it as an opportunity to rebuild the department, to help it recover from the treachery that has existed for far too long. Once that is done, I do not know where the Divine will have me go – _if_ it can be done. There may be too much to do and not enough to save.”

“If anyone can do it, Alexandra, it’s you,” said Colin.

Alexandra gave him a grateful smile and inclined her head. Briefly, Eric remembered Seeker mentioning a lost brother during one of the quiet moments on the case; Curly himself had siblings he hadn’t seen in a good long while. It occurred to him that maybe these two reminded each other of their siblings.

As this was going through his mind, Alexandra glanced over to where Nicolas was still standing. In his quiet, unobtrusive way, he had sort of slipped behind the two detectives and was drinking in the entire conversation as if he didn’t understand half of it and knew it better than they ever would at the same time. The Right Hand of the Divine gave him a compassionate sort of look and bent so she could look him in the eye.

“One thing I can offer all of you – one thing I will make sure is done before I leave Kirkwall – is to make sure the men you fear are put behind bars for a long time,” she told him. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

Nicolas shifted back and forth, clearly thinking of the conversation he had just had with the detectives. Yet somehow, Alexandra seemed to understand; maybe she had been standing there watching the whole thing, or maybe she would have done the same thing in his shoes and she understood without anything needing to be said.

“You did the right thing,” she assured Nicolas, placing a hand on his shoulder. She studied him thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you know why I got into law enforcement, Nicolas?” she asked at last.

“To help people?” he answered.

She nodded. “I had a brother. His name was Anthony. He was killed when I was about your age, or a little younger.” Even from their vantage point, the detectives could tell her eyes were swimming with pain at the memory. “But he’s the one who gave me the dream to become an officer. He always taught me that justice was an ideal and that law enforcement was a promise to uphold that ideal by doing the right thing, even when it’s not easy.”

So saying, she extracted the chain on which her locket and her IA ring hung and pulled it over her head. She removed the locket from the chain, placing it in her breast pocket for safekeeping, then gently looped the chain around Nicolas’s neck so that the golden ring fell against his chest, its brilliant topaz stone gleaming in the dingy light.

“You’ve been very brave, Nicolas,” she told him. “And it’s clear to me how much you want to help. So I want you to have this as a reminder of all that. Wherever life takes you, you have the same spark that Anthony had, that same drive to leave the world a better place than you found it. You may not become an officer of the law like he dreamed of doing, but it’s clear you share the same promise he had, the same one he instilled in me.”

Nicolas looked down at it then back up at her in some surprise, fingering the topaz stone and holding the trinket protectively against his chest. Alexandra nodded encouragingly and he hid it within his shirt like a secret. If he were any other Darktown orphan, he could pawn that thing for decent coin, but he was Nicolas; he would keep the ring forever and they all knew it.

“A stone that glitters, golden, gleaming, flickering like fire in water, burning brightly, like the brown stars in the eyes of the boy who was taken. Its fire almost matches his. And yours. You’re a better officer than the others,” he told her at last. “You care about everyone. You kept that promise. Your brother would be proud of you.”

Alexandra smiled at that, soft and sad. “Thank you, Nicolas,” she said. “My leaders, my department… they may have stumbled, but the ideals I believed when I took my oath are still there somewhere. They’re still within me. _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter…_ ”

Colin blinked and nodded along. “ _Blessed are the peacekeepers_ ,” he added. “ _The champions of the just_.”

Nicolas’s hand was still on the ring as his eyes roved between the three officers of the law. “It will be enough,” he said solemnly, in a tone of voice beyond his years.

Alexandra smiled at him and at the two detectives by her side, then placed a hand on his cheek briefly in solidarity and goodbye before getting to her feet.

“Whatever else,” she said, addressing herself to Colin and Eric, “I want you both to know I couldn’t have done this on my own. You were exactly what I needed in the moment I needed it and I would come to you again in a heartbeat. If you ever need something from me – other than that drink, of course – you need only ask.”

“Back at you, Seeker,” said Eric, then snorted. “Would you look it that? I guess we’ve all grown on each other.”

“Like fungus,” Alexandra retorted dryly; the two detectives couldn’t help but chuckle. Then, she sobered, but a soft smile remained on her features. “You are great detectives, you know. Knowing there are officers out there like you will help me immensely in my own quest. I truly believe you are doing the Maker’s work for this city.”

“Whatever that means in our line of work,” said Eric.

“It can be hard sometimes, I know. And sometimes the lines do get blurred. But I have seen what happens when those who are supposed to uphold the law go astray and I don’t see it in you two. You’re right that there is no way to know for certain what the Maker’s work truly is when it comes to justice – it is, in many ways, flexible, I think – but that is why we must seek it out.” There was passion in her voice as she spoke. “You call me Seeker because I pursue the truth, but maybe that’s what needed the most. Maybe my fellows lost their way because they stopped looking.”

“Perhaps… perhaps this all happened for a reason,” said Colin thoughtfully. “Perhaps the Maker intends a greater purpose for us all.”

“I don’t pretend to know,” said Alexandra, “but my heart tells me you are right. Whatever the future has in store for us all, keep searching for the truth and pursuing the ideal to which we’ve pledged ourselves, detectives, and the path will always be clear. Advice from a friend, for the days to come.”

So saying, she turned and disappeared up the alleyway, the mist obscuring her form as she walked away.

* * *

Two weeks later, the case was closed for good, but the detectives had one more order of business and a favor to ask of the Right Hand of the Divine – an invitation to a special swearing in ceremony. She was only too happy to grant their request, and thus both Colin and Eric were on hand to witness as Gabriel was inducted as a full-fledged member of Internal Affairs. Between the obvious skill he had demonstrated under Alexandra’s tutelage and his bravery during the Promiser debacle, it was only natural that he was deemed ready. Thus, her face alight with pride, Alexandra had the privilege of leading her own protégé through the Chant verse and giving him the topaz ring that would mark him as the first new member of the agency she wanted so desperately to rebuild. There was no better start to what would be the department’s new legacy than that.

“I think she has a shot, you know,” Eric remarked when the ceremony was over and they watched Alexandra speaking to Gabriel. “I think she really has a chance at rebuilding IA into something better.”

“I think so as well,” said Colin with a smile. “By all accounts, the other agents who remain are loyal and dedicated to her cause of making the agency the best it can be. With new agents at her side like Gabriel, I think we may be witnessing the birth of a new era for our colleagues. It’s hard to say what happens next – who joins them, who leads them as things go forward – but I firmly believe it will be better.”

“And I think things will be better for us too,” Eric said meaningfully. “Maybe you were onto something when you said this all had to happen for a reason, Curly. Not bad for a day’s work, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t agree more. Whatever comes next, we’ll be ready to face it.”

“That’s all anyone can ask. Now, I promised Seeker and Seeker Junior we’d have a little shindig back at the station – us, Hardy, Riley, the captain, even Nicolas. You coming?”

“You go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” he said, glancing back to Alexandra and Gabriel; it was clear from their expressions that she was giving him a last bit of encouragement and telling him how proud she was. “This case has me thinking I might take that advice you gave me when I first arrived and write a letter to my siblings.”

“See? That’s how you learn from the past and face the future. Go on – I’ll save you some coffee.” Eric gave his partner's shoulder a pat before strolling away.

Colin chuckled as he walked away, casting a glance over his shoulder, and he couldn’t keep the words from his mind.

_Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._

 


	8. The Emerald Affair, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a new threat comes to Kirkwall and draws the detectives into another mystery, Colin meanwhile finds himself drawn into something else entirely when he meets an emerald-eyed woman by the name of Evelyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! AB here this time! Apologies, I was going to upload this much, much sooner and it's just been a bit of a busy few weeks. However, I sincerely hope this was worth the wait. When doing a noir volume of stories about Cullen and Varric (*ahem* excuse me, Colin and Eric), of course I simply had to write one about how our favorite blonde detective meets the love of his life (*ahem* that is to say, Jim and Rory simply had to write it, of course). ;) So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy "The Emerald Affair"!

 

It was a grey Friday morning. Kirkwall was shrouded in fog, thick as a Hightown lady’s fur coat, and Detective Colin Lyons had no idea, as he sat drinking his third cup of coffee, that today was the day his life was going to change.

The City of Chains still had a foreign quality to him, like listening to a singer in a bar croon a song he knew in a language he didn’t speak. Up until three months ago he had been a part of the Fereldan armed forces; now he was a detective based out of Hightown. The story of everything in the middle was a heartbreaker, and he preferred not to think about it, let alone put it into words. All that needed to be said was that he had arrived in the city sporting scars he hadn’t had before – the jagged one across his lips, and others less visible – desiring nothing more than a second chance to serve. He certainly wasn’t looking to give his heart away, but fate had other plans. Fate was a cheeky dame that way.

The fog had dissipated somewhat by the time he made his way into work, but the clouds remained. The police barracks weren’t far from his apartment, however, and he managed to get inside before the rain started at least.

“Morning, Detective,” the desk sergeant greeted him as he entered.

“Good morning, Barrett.” The young security guard from the bank of Therinfal Redoubt had recently graduated from the police academy and had, much like Colin himself, transferred from Ferelden to Kirkwall; they were all pleased to have him. “Has anyone seen Nicolas yet today? It looks like it’s going to be quite the storm out there.”

Barrett nodded. “He arrived about half an hour ago, Ser,” he said, pointing in the direction of Colin and Eric’s office.

Colin inclined his head to the sergeant and made his way through the barracks’ labyrinthine hallways to the small corner office. Nicolas was there waiting, and spun to face him as he entered. The boy was a pale waif, with a fringe of hair and an oversized hat obscuring azure eyes the size of saucers. His thin lips were scrunched in a frown, which immediately puzzled Colin.

“Hello, Nicolas. Is something wrong?”

Many times, Nicolas showed up on his own with information for the detectives. True to his nature, he never expected anything in return for these details. “I like helping,” he would merely say. “It’s good.” Colin suspected now was one of those times and he was proven correct a moment later.

“I have news,” he said. His voice had a vaguely singsong quality, rhythmic and measured like the inside of a music box. “News about the Red Templars.”

Over the past few months there had been a number of bank robberies all over Thedas. The unknown assailants had been given the nickname of “The Red Templars” by the media thanks to the red masks they wore to obscure their faces.

“You have news?” Colin’s eyes widened. “Sit down, my boy. What do you know?”

“Whispers… rumors, really. They’re coming here to Kirkwall. Planning, plotting, this heist bigger than the others.” Nicolas studied his hands. “ _Coin, whatever the cost._ They’ll hurt people if they have to.”

“Do you know when this is taking place? And where?”

Nicolas shook his head. “They need to practice first. But they’re coming…”

The boy’s words chilled Colin, like snow too early in the season. The details of the Red Templars’ heists were scant, but what the police did know about them proved that they were not to be trifled with.

With Nicolas’s message delivered, Colin let him wander around the barracks in search of breakfast as he so often did. As soon as the morning slid into the afternoon and the rain finally ended, the boy went off to check on his stray animals once more, leaving Colin to pore over the case files. The Red Templars had already hit several small banks across Orlais and Ferelden, and with every heist they got a little bit stronger. He didn’t want to think what they could inflict in Kirkwall with time to practice…

A knock on his open door was the only thing that called his attention from the files and he looked up to see Eric. “Evening, Curly,” his partner said, arms crossed over his chest.

“Evening?” Colin repeated, and glanced out the window for the first time in hours. Sure enough, the sun had almost entirely set.

“Get lost in your work again?”

Colin ran his hands over his face, then rubbed his stiff neck. He had a permanent knot there called “duty” and nothing seemed to shake it. “Nicolas brought me a warning earlier – apparently the Red Templars are making their way to Kirkwall. We must be ready.”

“Never mind that for now,” cut in the voice of Captain Hendallen, who suddenly appeared in the doorway. “There’s been a major traffic accident – hit and run, multiple casualties. Already have a few uniforms dispatched down there, but I’ll need one of you there to interview the woman that was pulled from the wreckage. She’s the only survivor.”

“The only one? Maker’s breath.” Colin shook his head ruefully. “I’ll go. I should leave the files for the time being anyway.”

He left the barracks and within twenty minutes was down at the scene of the accident, which, although the worst of it had been cleaned up, was still horrible. Colin saw the coroner talking to one of the uniformed officers, and his stomach flipped to think about how many people had to be carted from the scene in body bags.

“Riley,” he called as the other detective drifted past, “I’m here to talk to the survivor. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Quite a horrible one, this,” Detective Knight said with a weary sigh. “Four cars involved, including the one that caused the accident – although we think that it might have been some sort of van. As far as we can tell, the van was going at least thirty miles over the speed limit and ran a red light. Sent this car careening off into the other traffic lane...” He pointed to one car that had been pulled to the side of the road, if such a twisted heap of metal could truly be classified as a car. “...where it hit these other two.” The other cars were varying degrees of destroyed. “The woman who was in the third car is the one who survived – name’s Evelyn Maxwell, they’re treating her now. She’s lucky she was in the back of the line. Witnesses say they saw some woman, maybe a Chantry priestess, pull her out of the car, but we can’t find the priestess, so she’s probably split. As it is, Miss Maxwell’s left hand is a little worse for wear, but otherwise she’s going to be fine.” He nodded to a petite brunette woman sitting in the back of an ambulance, where the EMTs were fussing.

“Right. Thank you, Riley.”

Maker, what a nightmare. Colin pulled his trench coat around him more securely, the very thought of the grisly accident sending a shiver through him, as he went to meet this lone survivor. The closer he got to the ambulance, the more tentative his steps became – the poor woman looked like she had been to hell and back again, and he was loath to startle her. She looked small and shell-shocked, and Colin couldn’t help but watch her trail her foot through a puddle like a lost child. As the EMTs finished wrapping her injured left hand and moved away, he spoke as gently as he could. “Miss Maxwell?”

He was slightly startled as she looked up and he realized she had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, deep emerald green and lit with an undeniable fire, even slightly dulled with pain and exhaustion as they were now. For a moment, he forgot not just that he had been the one who spoke, but forgot how to speak entirely. When the ability returned to him, he stammered his way through an introduction. “I… my name is Detective Lyons.” He fumbled to show her his badge. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about the accident, if you feel up to talking about it. May I?”

She regarded him for a moment, like she had just seen the sun for the first time after being stuck down in the Deep Roads for a month. Then, after a beat, she nodded wearily. “Of course, Detective, but I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be – I didn’t see much. Well… I didn’t see much of the car that did this, I should say.” Her green eyes were liquid. “Those poor people…”

His heart ached for her, and he moved over to pick up the garishly bright shock blanket the EMTs had left next to her, draping it over her shoulders. She gave him a tiny, grateful smile, and pulled the blanket around her as she spoke. Unfortunately, she had nothing more to give him than a very basic description of the vehicle – which the accident investigators had already been able to guess – but he still wanted to be as thorough as possible. Besides, even if she was being interviewed about the accident, she seemed grateful just to be speaking to someone.

About halfway through the interview, one of the EMTs moved back over and placed a hand on Colin’s shoulder. “Sorry, Detective, I have to cut you off there. We’d like to take her to the hospital to get her hand looked at – you’ll have to continue this another time.”

Colin nodded. “All right. Miss Maxwell, we can finish the interview at the police barracks when you’re discharged from the hospital, it won’t take long. For now, I’ll give you my card-”

“No!” Colin was surprised to hear the desperation in her voice, and even more surprised when she reached out to grab his wrist. She seemed a bit taken aback by the outburst herself and she cleared her throat. “It’s just… I have no one here – my entire family is in Ostwick. And I… I really don’t want to be alone right now. Please.”

The detective wasn’t entirely certain it was proper for him to be this woman’s hospital visitor, but he supposed if anyone questioned it, he could say he was continuing their interview or that the lady didn’t feel safe without a police escort. Either way, her pleading broke down his resolve. And besides, he found he was reluctant to leave her side too, for whatever reason.

“All right,” he said, covering her undamaged hand with both of his own. “I don’t think they’ll let me come in the ambulance with you, but I can meet you at the hospital, okay?”

The woman nodded shakily. “Thank you, Detective… it’s just occurred to me I don’t know your first name,” she said. “I didn’t get a good enough look at your badge to see it.”

“Oh. Colin. It’s Colin.”

“Colin,” she repeated, and the sound of his name on her tongue froze him in place for a moment. “A pleasure. I’m Evelyn.”

“The pleasure is mine, Miss.” He smiled. “Well, uh… I’ll follow the ambulance, then. I won’t be far behind.”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his face as they got her situated in the ambulance and closed the door. As they prepared to depart, Colin wandered over to his car in a sort of daze, and for several seconds just sat inside with the windshield wipers streaking over the windshield aimlessly. It took him a second after the ambulance rumbled to life to turn his own car on, and he drove to the hospital, still not entirely certain why his heart was beating so irregularly. Damn this faulty ticker of his.

* * *

Naturally, he had to wait a bit when he arrived at the hospital as the tests were run on Evelyn’s hand. The hospital staff tried to tell him visiting hours were over, but his badge did the talking for him and he was allowed to stay. At last, a blonde doctor with an Orlesian accent came out to fetch him, leading him back into the room.

“She has a little nerve damage in her left hand, which may limit some of the movement in her fingers, but otherwise she’s going to be perfectly fine,” he informed Colin as they walked. “She was very lucky.”

“She’s alive by the grace of Andraste,” Colin agreed.

They entered the room and Evelyn, looking disconcerted and ill at ease, glanced over. Her entire expression changed when she saw Colin. “Detective,” she said with a sigh of relief.

“I’ll leave you both to it then,” said the doctor, smiling at Evelyn as he left. Why that smile made a sort of strange ire rise in Colin’s chest, he wasn’t sure.

Once the door was closed, he allowed himself to look at her properly. Her left arm was in a cast and a few bruises had formed on her face in the aftermath of the accident. “The doctor told me about your hand,” he said after a beat. The moment felt oddly intimate, like the right of being there belonged to someone else and he was just intruding.

She nodded. “Yes. It seems it’s not going to be quite right ever again.” She glanced down at the cast and gave a little shrug. “Thank the Maker I bucked the family tradition and declined military service – I don’t think such a thing would be possible now. But luckily I’m right-handed, so it shouldn’t affect my art.”

“Your art?” he repeated. “You’re an artist?”

She nodded again. “Not professionally or anything, but I do portraits and the like. I’ve always been in love with art.” Her voice took on a quality of pride and passion as she spoke. “It’s an adventure. You never know what you’re going to do from day to day – and that’s liberating in a way, not to mention terribly exciting.”

There was an overwhelming ease in talking to her, the type of ease he hadn’t felt in years. And yet, he was once again faced with the equally overwhelming feeling that he was an interloper, unworthy of being her confidant. Nevertheless, he smiled.

“That’s wonderful,” he said truthfully. “To find joy in a Maker-given skill like that is a blessing.”

“I completely agree, Detective. Or may I call you Colin?”

“Oh. Um… of course. By all means.”

“All right.” She smiled. “And you may call me Evelyn, if you wish.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that, Miss.” He could feel his cheeks grow a little warm. “I wouldn’t want to be inappropriate. I… I apologize.”

“No, no, I understand.” She held up her free hand to show she had taken no offense. For a heartbeat, they both looked away, Colin awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “What about you?” Evelyn said quickly, perhaps sensing his discomfort. “Did you always want to be a detective?”

“Yes and no. I was in the military for a time before this. But I always knew I wanted to serve in some capacity – I knew it even when I was a child, believe it or not.” He chuckled faintly at the memories that came springing to mind. “When my elder sister learned how serious I was about wanting to become a soldier or a police officer or something that could help people, she made our younger siblings help me ‘practice’, if you can picture such a thing.”

She laughed too. “I can. You have siblings?”

“Three, to be precise – an elder sister, a younger brother, then the baby of the family is my youngest sister.”

“How sweet. I’m the baby in my family,” she said. “I have two brothers and two sisters, all of whom have families of their own now. I suppose I need to call them all and let them know I’m all right.”

“Quite the group,” Colin commented, giving her a little smile.

“Quite the group indeed. It can get a bit hectic at times – and there are a lot of… um… expectations at home – but the good thing about being the youngest is that I think my parents were more inclined to let me be my own person. Getting out of Ostwick for a little while has also helped, even if it does make for some lonely days.” She sighed, then forced herself to look back up and smile at him. “Are you in touch with your siblings much, Detective?”

“Not as much as I should be,” he admitted. “I suppose you could say I’ve had my own share of lonely days.”

She paused, clearly digesting that. “Well,” she said at last. “we’re not alone right now. At least for tonight, let’s not be lonely.” Her pale cheeks flooded with color at that, as if she hadn’t meant to speak quite so candidly. “So… uh… what now? We… you had that interview to finish with me, didn’t you?”

“Hmm?” Something about the dusting of red across her cheekbones had stopped him dead, but he came crashing back to reality now. “Oh, right. Yes. Of course. Or we could… do it later. In the meantime, how do you feel about chess?” He held his phone aloft. “There’s an app for that.”

She laughed, an intoxicating sound. “Prepare the board, Detective.”

They spent just shy of two hours in each other’s company in this manner, playing chess on the little app and talking casually about various subjects; eventually, Colin did conclude the interview as well (Evelyn could, unfortunately, offer no other information on what had happened which, while expected, was nevertheless disappointing). At last, with great difficulty, he rose to part from her, insisting that she get some sleep. With a reluctance seemingly as great as his own, she nodded.

“Would you mind… would you mind terribly just staying until I fall asleep?” she asked, a bit shyly. “It won’t be long. Unless you have to be going, of course, I would understand…”

“No, I don’t have anywhere to be,” Colin said gently, noting the anxiety on her face and how it seemed to melt away at his assertion. “I can easily stay.”

She reached out to squeeze his hand in thanks and the detective had the strange, sudden notion that he could stand there forever in that position and not grow tired of it. With that thought buzzing in his mind, he forced himself to retreat to the far side of the room in order to turn off the lights and take up residence in one of the offered chairs. His mind was alive and buzzing like a jar of bees that had been shaken up and tossed somewhere; this night was not anything like what he had expected and he didn’t quite know how to feel or what to think.

He didn’t have long to ruminate, however. Within a few minutes, he heard the sound of her breathing level out, deep and rhythmic.

“Miss?” he asked quietly. “Miss Maxwell, are you still awake?”

When he received no response, he got up as unobtrusively as he could, crossing over to the door. He hesitated for a moment before opening it, turning back to where Evelyn lay sleeping. She looked small lying there, but peaceful, and the scene made something tender stir in his chest, something he couldn’t identify but was certain he had no right to feel. Not really. Not for her. Not for anyone.

“Good night… Evelyn,” he whispered.

Then, forcing himself not to look back, he took his leave as silently as possible, fairly certain he would never see her again.

* * *

He was therefore extremely surprised when, a few weeks later, he found out Miss Evelyn Maxwell was still in Kirkwall.

In the interim, Colin had all but thrown himself into the investigation of the Red Templars, desperately trying to figure out their next moves. It had nearly gotten lost, tied up as he had been in helping Evelyn in the aftermath of the car accident, but the Red Templars had in fact robbed a bank not far from Kirkwall, which seemed only to corroborate Nicolas’s information that they were making their way into the city. There were more than enough banks for them to “practice” on in Kirkwall and the surrounding areas, and Colin began to fear their ultimate target was the Royal Bank of Starkhaven. But what he needed was proof.

Dimly, he wondered if Nicolas had any new information that might be helpful, but he hadn’t seen Nicolas in at least two weeks. He was worried about the boy, but any attempts he made to send a detective down to Darktown to find him, and any attempts he made to do it himself, were unsuccessful. After all, the boy had a knack for remaining hidden unless he wanted to be found. However, as Nicolas usually did, he eventually turned up all on his own. To say Colin was relieved to see him was an understatement.

“I know you were trying to find me, Detective,” Nicolas said by way of greeting as Barrett led him into Colin’s office. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

Colin smiled. “I was worried something had happened to you, my boy. Are you all right? You look well.”

“I am well.” Nicolas nodded. “A woman – a very nice woman – has been taking care of me sometimes, just like you do. She brings me inside the shop where she works so I can stay warm or dry, she gives me meals, she’s even teaching me how to draw.” He paused, thoughtful. “Emerald eyes sparkle, lips quirk when she’s working, happiest in the art, tracing out images of faces that sometimes feel half remembered. ‘Art is an adventure,’ that’s what she told me.”

Colin could feel his eyebrows immediately shoot up at Nicolas’s description. “Nicolas… the woman who has been helping you… is her name Evelyn Maxwell, by any chance?”

The boy nodded again. “Yes. She works at an arts and crafts store in Hightown. Would you like me to take you there?”

A little surprised by just how much he wanted to say yes to Nicolas’s query, Colin, a little flushed, stood and gestured for Nicolas to lead the way. Within a few minutes, they arrived at a tiny shop and Nicolas made his way inside with no hesitation, the detective drifting behind him. Sure enough, Evelyn was in one corner of the room organizing bottles of paint. Her left hand was out of its cast and although she still seemed to be getting used to the limited movement in some of the fingers, she was obviously pressing forward without missing a beat.

“Hello, Nicolas,” she called as he came into view. “I was just…” She stopped abruptly, evidently taking in the sight of Colin, and a smile broke across her face. “Detective Lyons! What a surprise. It’s good to see you.”

“And you as well, Miss Maxwell,” he said, suddenly a little breathless at the sight of her smile. “I… uh… I wasn’t expecting to find you here. In Kirkwall, I mean. I just assumed you had gone back to Ostwick.”

“Oh, no, I’m here getting my teaching degree. I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it the night you accompanied me to the hospital.”

“It’s perfectly all right, you had a lot to contend with that night.”

“Yes.” She was still smiling at him, her eyes roving across his features as if she was memorizing every detail of his face. After a moment, she forced herself to look over at Nicolas. “Nicolas, sweetheart, there are some bagels in the back office if you’d like to help yourself.”

“I would. Thank you.” He turned to go, then stopped, pausing as he faced them yet again. “You’re both smiling,” he pointed out. “It’s good.” With that, he departed, and Colin ordered himself not to blush.

A faint pink dusted Evelyn’s cheeks too and she looked down, a little shy but also – unless Colin was very much mistaken – a little pleased by Nicolas’s assessment. “You know,” she said at last, “Nicolas told me there was a kind detective who looked after him. I should have guessed it was you. He thinks very highly of you, Detective Lyons.”

“Just Colin, please. I’m off duty.” He chuckled.

“Only if you call me Evelyn,” she countered, her lips twitching. “If you’re off duty, it won’t be inappropriate, now will it?”

“I suppose not… Evelyn.” She seemed to light up as he said her name. He didn’t allow himself to dwell too long on why that might be. He also didn’t allow himself to dwell too long on why she asked him to stay or how gladly he agreed.

Over the next month, Colin quickly went from thinking he would never see Evelyn again to seeing her with increasing frequency. She told him he had a standing invitation to come by the shop whenever she was working alone to visit if he was so inclined. Colin tried to tell himself that it was merely because having a detective hanging around made the woman feel safer; that she started keeping pots of coffee on hand for him and that he in turn routinely brought her hot chocolate was just them being polite to each other, surely.

In addition to that, Evelyn became a regular visitor at the police barracks – ostensibly to see Nicolas, who divided his time between the shop and the barracks when he wasn’t off taking care of his animal charges. As such, it became necessary to introduce her to Eric, something Colin immediately regretted as his partner bestowed upon Evelyn her very own nickname.

“Hmm… _the artist had eyes like the Waking Sea, dark and deep and stormy_ ,” he mused, then landed on a moniker. “Siren? Siren. Like in the myths. Seems to me like a man would willingly drown in those eyes. Isn’t that right, Curly?” He elbowed Colin, who just glowered, blushing furiously.

As the days dragged on, it was beginning to get harder and harder for Colin to deny just how much he wanted to be in Evelyn’s presence. The only issue was that whenever he got the chance, panic and self-admonition kept him away. There was still that ease of talking with her that he observed upon their first meeting, but that ease only came when they talked about neutral things like her art or his work or Nicolas. Whenever the conversation strayed to something deeper, more personal, he found himself all but fleeing in the other direction. As much as he wanted to stay, as much as he tried to make himself be at ease and keep talking to her, he always ended up running away.

Circumstances would soon force that to change.


	9. The Emerald Affair, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin struggles with his steadily deepening feelings for Evelyn... and makes a mistake that gives the Red Templars a big opportunity.

 

** The Emerald Affair – Part Two **

As Harvestmere waned – about two months after Evelyn’s accident – Colin was sitting at his desk, Eric nursing a coffee at his own desk not far away, when Barrett rapped on the open door. “Sorry to interrupt, Sers,” he said, “but Miss Maxwell’s here to see you. She says it’s urgent.”

Colin and Eric exchanged a surprised, slightly alarmed glance, and the younger detective was on his feet at once. “Thank you, Sergeant. You can show her in.”

Barrett stepped aside and gestured for Evelyn to enter before he took his leave. She looked pale and a bit unnerved, but she managed a wobbly smile at the sight of Colin. “I’m so sorry to intrude at this hour. I know it’s late.”

“You’re not intruding at all.” Colin studied her face. “Is everything all right?”

“I… don’t know,” she admitted, sinking into the chair that Eric had crossed over to provide. “It’s entirely possible I’m just imagining things but I… get the sense I’m being followed.”

“Followed?” Colin couldn’t hide the alarm in his voice. “What makes you say so?”

Evelyn looked down at her hands, as though looking him in the eye was difficult. “There have been little things – cars parked on my street, people who seem to be following me in crowds. I feel… watched. I can’t be certain it really is anything, but I have a feeling I’m being targeted.”

“Why would you be targeted, Siren?” Eric asked gently.

Evelyn’s gaze was still in her lap. “I haven’t been… entirely truthful with you.” The word _you_ seemingly included both of the detectives, but as she chanced a glance up, Evelyn’s eyes were trained on Colin only. “I’m not just Evelyn Maxwell, I’m… Lady Evelyn. My father is the Bann of Ostwick.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Eric nodded. “I thought the name ‘Maxwell’ sounded familiar. That explains a lot.”

Colin, for his part, felt his mouth go very dry. There was something about the idea that she was nobility that made him feel even more impertinent for wanting to be in her presence than his own personal issues had already made him feel. He realized she was waiting for his reaction and he endeavored to stammer a hasty reply. “Oh. I uh… I see. I… so you think this might be… politically motivated?”

She sighed. “I’m not sure. Maybe an enemy of my family’s saw my name in the newspaper following the car accident. Maybe my horrible aunt is trying to drag me back to Ostwick for some terrible arranged marriage. I have no way of really knowing, but I… I don’t feel safe.”

That assertion was all Colin needed to hear to launch him into action. “Don’t worry, I – we – won’t let anything happen to you. That’s a promise. We can make sure one of our people is around to protect you, put a guard near your apartment. Things like that.”

She nodded, clearly grateful, and something in her eyes seemed to say the “I” part of Colin’s statement wasn’t lost on her, like she was desperately hoping he meant it like it sounded. Colin tried not to dwell too long on that as she spoke. “Thank you, Detectives. That would be wonderful. I hope it’s nothing, but-”

“-But it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Eric finished for her. “We get it. Curly, why don’t you drive our lady Siren home? I’ll get someone on the house ASAP.”

“Right,” Colin said, getting the faintest idea that Eric was suggesting him for this duty on purpose. Before he could stop himself, he found himself taking the bait hook, line, and sinker. “And I can keep watch for a little too, it’s no trouble.”

“Are you sure?” Evelyn asked. “I… wouldn’t want to be an imposition.”

“You’re not,” he assured her, reasserting the previous statement. “It’s no trouble.”

“Be careful, kids. Let me know if you need backup,” Eric added mildly, trying not to look too outwardly pleased with himself.

Within ten minutes, Colin and Evelyn had departed the barracks and were walking through the parking garage to Colin’s car. They were silent for a bit, until the detective spoke. “So… uh… what should I call you now?”

Evelyn stopped walking, giving him a slightly incredulous smile. “I would hope you’ll still call me ‘Evelyn.’”

“Not ‘my lady?’”

“Please, if I wanted that I would have stayed in Ostwick,” she said, resuming their course again, her eyes trained on the pavement. “I don’t want… I don’t want things to be different between us because of that.”

“Between us?” he repeated, trying to sound casual.

“Our – our friendship,” she stammered. “I _do_ consider you a friend and I would hate to think something changed because you suddenly know about my title.”

 _If anything’s changed, it’s only that I think I’m even more unworthy of you than I did before,_ Colin said to himself. To her, he merely smiled. “Our friendship hasn’t changed. And I consider you a friend too.”

“Well, good.” She sounded relieved. “I’m pleased that’s straightened out.”

Was it though? Colin couldn’t help but feel less sure.

It wasn’t a far drive to her apartment and when they arrived, Colin opened the car door for her, walking her to the front of the building. For a moment, they both milled awkwardly underneath the glow of the streetlights.

“Would you… would you like to come in for a drink?” she asked at last. “I hate thinking you have to sit in your car for hours, that’s not very interesting for you.”

“I’ll be all right,” he promised. “And as for the drink, I’m on duty, so I’m afraid I must decline. But thank you for the offer.”

“Right. Of course.” There was disappointment in her tone and Colin realized that ‘a drink’ probably didn’t just mean ‘a drink,’ and he mentally chastised himself. However, maybe this was better. There was no way they could be together, so better to get it out of the way now than to suffer later.

“If you need me, though, I’ll be right outside,” he said, gesturing to the car. “So… have a nice night then.”

She gave him a look that said she couldn’t quite figure him out, but nevertheless smiled. “You too, Colin.” She turned to let herself into the building then paused and turned back. Impulsively, she leaned up to plant a lingering kiss to his cheek before hurrying inside.

For several minutes, Colin was too stunned to move, almost certain his mind was playing tricks on him. He finally managed to rouse himself and made his way to the car, surprised his legs worked at all. Once he was inside, then he allowed himself to reach up and trace the area where her lips had lingered, his eyes fluttering shut at the memory. Whatever else was to come, he would treasure that feeling for a long, long time.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Evelyn had a series of clandestine protectors whose presence seemed to quickly scare off any would-be assailants. It wasn’t always Colin who was on hand to watch out for her – sometimes Hardy, Barrett, or Riley would stand guard on her street or near the art shop where she worked. They were all committed to their work and would have given the best of themselves no matter who their assigned charge was, but there seemed to be a particular effort made, as though the assignment was a personal favor to Colin. Riley all but confirmed that one day when he assured Colin, “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to your girlfriend on our watch, Detective.” (Colin had merely knit his brows and grumbled, “You’ve been talking to Eric, haven’t you?”)

The truth of the matter was that Colin was beginning to become a little ruffled by the teasing. It wasn’t the comments themselves that bothered him; it was the truth that each comment unwittingly reflected. He thought of Eric’s nickname for Evelyn more than once – that in mythology men were so charmed by the Sirens that they drowned – and had a sneaking suspicion he could relate to those sailors of lore. But he couldn’t do this. Not when she had the whole world before her and he had nothing to offer. So he tried his best to throw himself into his work and did his best not to spend too much time at the shop where she worked. He was _mostly_ successful.

He was, if nothing else, at least making headway in the Red Templars’ case, although the developments were somewhat alarming. After the bank robbery that had taken place in the city, he had Barrett contact the other banks throughout Thedas – including Therinfal Redoubt – that had been hit and compared all the footage those banks could collect. It often wasn’t much, as the thieves disabled the cameras quickly, but he could tell the way the suspects moved was indicative of military training.

It seemed the gang was made up of former soldiers, much like Colin had once been, and he was horrified to consider the possibility that he knew some of them. Sometimes, in the dead quiet of the night after a particularly bad nightmare, he often imagined what might have happened if things had gone differently for him. Would he ever have been so desperate to survive that he would resort to such villainy? No. He was a man of the law. The law was the only thing he had left.

But with this new piece of information, Colin began chasing a radical new theory – that the Red Templars had a leader, or leaders, who were former military as well.

“I’ve been thinking… why would the Red Templars come to Kirkwall?” he asked Eric one day.

“You said yourself that they’re probably after the Royal Bank of Starkhaven,” Eric replied. “And Nicolas said they want to practice for a heist that big.”

“Yes, but why in Kirkwall specifically? Why not Hercinia or Ostwick or Wycome? Is it just because we’re located near the ports or is there some bigger purpose to it?”

“I suspect you’re building to a point, Curly.”

“The point is, what if the Templars have connections here? We know they’re ex-military and there can’t be _that_ many former soldiers here, can there?”

“But there are at least two,” interrupted the voice of the captain, who stood listening in the doorway. “Russell Samuelson and Judith Stendahl.”

“The DA and the judge?” Eric said, knitting his brows. “They’ve been on a reign of terror since the Viscount appointed them, no question. But funding bank robbery?” His gaze swiveled to Colin. “What about it, Curly? Copper for your thoughts?”

“As always, we need proof,” he said, shaking his head. “We can’t accuse them simply on the basis that they have ties to the military – if that’s all we’ve got, using that logic we could accuse me. We have more information than we did before, but we somehow have less proof.”

 “Don’t worry about it, kid, we’ll get our proof one way or another,” said Eric. “But for now, I think you have a Wintersend party to attend.”

The holidays were upon them and a party was planned for the entire barracks in the basement of the Kirkwall Chantry, which had been rented for the occasion.

“Oh, I figured I would stay, hold down the fort,” Colin said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s what the captain and I are for,” said Eric, waving the younger detective off. “Go, have fun. Besides, a certain green-eyed Siren will be there, I hear.”

 _Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of_ , Colin thought to himself, but seeing he wasn’t going to win this argument, he relented. “All right. Yes. I’ll go change.”

“Atta boy, Curly. The job will still be here when you get back.”

* * *

Colin arrived at the party after stalling for as long as he decently could. He knew Evelyn had been invited – since she was under police protection, it only made sense she should be invited to the party her protectors were throwing – but part of him hoped she had opted not to come. And yet, another part of him longed to see her. He had been keeping his distance as much as possible, although he still often found himself visiting the shop (to make sure she was all right, of course). Nicolas reported that Evelyn missed the detective when he wasn’t around, and the feeling was very mutual. Thus, although his heart gave a painful lurch as he spotted her upon entering the party, there was something about seeing her that made him feel whole in a way he hadn’t in days.

She was talking to Hardy when he entered and looked up immediately, a surprised smile traveling up to her eyes as she spotted him. She excused herself from Hardy’s company and made her way over to him, a drink in her hand. She was clad in a dazzling dress of green velvet, with a collar of sparkling emeralds at her throat and her dark hair pulled into a sweeping braided updo. For a minute, Colin was almost certain he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Colin,” she said, coming to squeeze his fingers with her free hand, “we were wondering if you would come. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

“Yes, I’m sorry for that. I’ve been… there’s been a lot of work at the barracks lately,” he stammered, trying to recover.

“They certainly keep you busy, I’ll say that.” Evelyn chuckled. After a beat, she bit her lip nervously, nodding in the direction of the dance floor. “I… don’t suppose you’ll save a dance for me?” she asked.

“Oh.” Colin’s eyes widened in surprise and he cleared his throat, which had suddenly gone a touch dry. “I… uh… I’m not much for dancing.” Seeing her eyes take on a look of disappointment, reason fled him entirely. Before he could halt his mouth, he found himself saying, “But… for you… I’ll try.”

Her eyes brightened again and she set her forgotten drink on a nearby table. “I believe there’s time now.”

“Well, in that case…” He bowed playfully, offering her his hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

She laughed. “Of course.”

Slipping her hand into his, she led him out to the dance floor and stepped in to close the distance between them. It was a slow song, he noticed, and the steps foreign to him as they began to sway. His unease must have shown on his face, for she laughed again.

“You’re doing fine,” she assured him. “Just look at me and follow your instincts.”

The double meaning that could be assigned to that statement nearly killed him, but he nodded and did as she suggested. “So…” he said, casting about for anything they could talk about while they danced. “Are you enjoying the party so far?”

“I am. It was kind of everyone to invite me. And I’ve never felt safer in my entire life,” she added with a grin. “All my protectors in one place.”

“Indeed. At least it seems to have helped. The police protection, I mean.”

She nodded. “I’m not sure if whoever was following me realized I had police protection and backed off, or if they’re still there and just haven’t made a move because I’m no longer alone. But either way, I’m grateful I don’t have to look over my shoulder.”

“I’m glad of it too, for your sake. No one should have to live looking over their shoulder.” He paused for a moment, wishing his hands were free so he could rub the back of his neck. “You… uh… you look beautiful, by the way.”

She smiled, a little shyly. “Why, thank you. And you look very handsome as well.” He stammered a thank you and fell silent, so she elected to break the silence again. “Colin, I… I’ve missed talking to you. Our conversations have been few and far between lately.”

His heart skipped a beat. “I miss talking to you too.”

“Then why haven’t you come around? To the shop, or to the apartment? You know you’re always welcome.”

“I know, but… there are things about me that…”

“You say you miss talking to me. Then _talk to me_.”

“The things I have to say aren’t things you want to hear, Evelyn,” he said with a sigh.

“I _do_ want to hear them, Colin. No matter what.” She relocated her hands so that they both covered his own and began to lead him off the dance floor. “Come on.”

Sighing again, he gestured to a side door that led out to the alley. It was a cool, crisp night and the stars danced in the cloudless sky overhead. Evelyn looked up to admire them, rubbing her arms in the cold. At once, Colin shrugged off his suit coat and draped it around her shoulders, bundling it around her. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks were pink from the cold… and probably other reasons as she sat down on a nearby crate. “Now, tell me what’s bothering you. I can tell you’ve been carrying something for a long time.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, Evelyn, I _can’t_.” His eyes were already growing wet and he hadn’t even launched into the tale yet.

She reached out to catch his wrist, her thumb stroking the palm gently. “You _can_ ,” she insisted. “You’re stronger than you know. And whatever it is, I’m willing to listen.”

There was something about the way she spoke that made him believe her completely. Unable to look her directly in the eyes, he told her of his time in the military, of how he had been captured by enemies, of how he had eventually been honorably discharged due to his heart condition and the stress that had plagued him in the aftermath of his capture. He told her of the things he had seen, of the things he had done. Of how he had suffered. When he was finished, he at last forced himself to look her in the eyes – she deserved that much – and found nothing but sweet sympathy registered there.

“Oh, Colin. You’ve been through so much. And all it’s done is make you stronger.”

“Has it? Sometimes I wonder.” He shook his head. “Well, anyway. Now you know. It’s the one thing I always hoped I would never have to tell you.”

“Colin, I… I care about you,” she said, getting to her feet and reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. “You’ve done nothing to change that.”

For a moment, his heart soared, his cheek growing warm beneath her hand. But he _couldn’t_. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t what she deserved – he could never be what she deserved. He placed a hand on her cheek as well, but made no move. Her eyes searched his face, faintly confused, faintly desperate.

“I… I should go,” he said at last. “I’m sorry.”

He forced himself from her, his hands finding her shoulders where the coat rested and bundling it around her in a gesture that said _keep this_. He couldn’t help but think of their first meeting, when he had covered her shaking shoulders in a shock blanket as she sat in the back of the ambulance. Maybe she was thinking the same thing as she looked up at him.

“Colin…” she said, her voice impossibly soft.

He turned away before she could catch his hand or say something that would freeze him there. Then, before the tears in his eyes could crest, he began walking down the alley. She may have said his name again, but he forced himself not to respond.

* * *

If Colin slept at all that night, he didn’t notice, but it certainly felt like he hadn’t. His eyes were red for most of the day, only partially due to lack of sleep, and his mood was not helped much when Barrett came into his office and handed him back his suit coat from the previous night. “Here, Ser, Miss Maxwell gave this to me, said you left it at the party.”

She clearly hadn’t wanted to come in person to give it back to him. It hurt to acknowledge such a thing, but it was what needed to happen if he was to set her free. He did his best to focus on work, even though his mind continually wandered to Evelyn. He sighed deeply, when suddenly a voice cut in.

“Curly, if I hear you make one more lovelorn sigh, I’m going to sit you down and subject you to my advice on love,” Eric said from across the room. “And I’m the _last_ person who should ever give love advice, so take that under advisement.”

Colin sighed again, but this time it was a frustrated sound. “What are you implying, exactly, Eric?”

The older detective held up his hands. “Nothing, nothing. It just seems to me like you’ve heard the Siren song, is all. Not too many men are able to resist that.”

“I would really prefer not to talk about this.”

“I get that. All I’m saying is that if the song is impossible to resist, maybe… maybe it would be a good idea to listen to it.”

Colin sighed. “To use your own metaphor, that’s a surefire way to drown, though, isn’t it?”

“There are worse ways to go, kid. There are definitely worse ways to go.”

Eric said no more on the subject, but his words weighed heavily on Colin for the rest of the day and led to another sleepless night. A lack of sleep was nothing new, but now it was somehow worse as nightmares mixed with loneliness to make a bitter cocktail he hated having to drink. Therefore, he was relieved when Nicolas showed up the next morning to offer some information on their case, as it offered a distraction from the storm in his mind.

His relief, however, was incredibly short-lived.

“Detectives,” Nicolas said as he arrived, “I have news about the Red Templars.”

Colin seized his notebook at once, gesturing for Nicolas to sit down. “Go on, my boy, what did you find out?”

“They’re planning another heist,” Nicolas explained. “I heard them meeting, muttering, voices in the shadows. They’re planning on stealing something precious, beautiful – an emerald.”

“Did you hear them say where they’re going to get this emerald?” Eric queried, leaning against the desk.

“No. They were talking about how they were going to get away.” Nicolas dropped his voice into a low growl, clearly mimicking the Templars’ voices. “ _We can’t have a repeat of what happened before. Can’t have another slip up like last time when Paxley nearly wrecked the van. Got to clean up his mess._ ”

Colin looked up from where he had been taking notes and exchanged a look with Eric. “They mentioned wrecking a van?” Colin repeated. “The accident investigators said that’s what caused the accident Evelyn survived.”

“You don’t think…?” Eric began, lifting an eyebrow.

“Maker’s breath, it was the Red Templars!” Colin exclaimed. “There was that bank heist they committed around the same time as the accident – they were probably fleeing that scene! They had to be! They got careless and caused the accident in their haste.”

“That’s great, Curly, but that doesn’t help us solve anything,” Eric pointed out. “All it proves is that every thread we’ve been working with so far leads back to them, which we figured already.”

“I suppose you’re right about that. But at least we have information that they’re going to strike again and we can tell all our units to be on high alert for a van.”

“I’ll tell Barrett to start calling around to the banks and passing on this info to them,” Eric said. “Especially any that have emeralds in their vaults.”

Colin nodded to Eric as he left the room to speak to Barrett, then placed a hand on Nicolas’s shoulder. “Nicolas, this information has been extremely useful. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I helped,” Nicolas replied, smiling slightly. Then, his expression became pensive. “Detective… what happened between you and Miss Maxwell? You were both so happy – it was _good_ – but now…” He shook his head sadly. “You look like the sun when the moon covers it and she’s… she’s a rainbow, but now she has no color. It isn’t right.”

Colin’s heart twisted painfully. “It’s complicated, Nicolas. Sometimes… sometimes things can’t happen the way we want.”

“But _why_?” The boy seemed so confused by this statement and deeply troubled for both of his caretakers. “You make each other brighter, why isn’t that enough?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with this, Nicolas,” Colin said, his tone quiet, gentle. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“She draws you all the time,” Nicolas continued as if he hadn’t heard Colin’s statement. “She thinks she dreamed too hard, wanted too much, asked for the impossible. It hurts.” His voice was sorrowful. “I want to help. I wish I could help.”

He tried not to dwell on that too long, wondering if Evelyn had quite literally dreamt of him the way he had dreamt of her, always longing for her touch. He blinked hard, trying not to let Nicolas see how pained he was. “I know you do,” he said, his own voice choked with emotion. “You’re a good lad.”

“She wishes you would talk to her. She just wants to see you again. Don’t let the rainbow fade away, Detective, please.” And with that, he made his way out of the barracks, disappearing, as he often did, just as quickly as he had come.

* * *

Colin couldn’t afford to be compromised, not at a time like this, so he did his best to put Nicolas’s words out of his mind and instead focused on the tasks at hand. Banks were called, every unit was told to be on the lookout for a van in the vicinity of the potential targets, and Colin forced himself not to think about Evelyn. She, at the very least, was safe in police protection from whatever shadowy force was targeting her and her family. That would have to be looked into when all of this was over too… but not by him. It would be better if he excused himself from that particular case.

However, his mind had no sooner wandered over the thought that Evelyn was safe when Nicolas suddenly came pounding into the barracks once more. “Detective Lyons!” he called, clearly alarmed. His pale face was flushed and his breathing irregular, as if he had run the entire way back.

Colin reached out to steady him. “Slow down, my boy, what’s the matter?”

“It’s Miss Maxwell,” he explained, panting slightly. “Detective Knight escorted her to work this morning, but when I went to see her, she wasn’t there. I think she was on her way to see you, but she’s gone and she left her sketchbook. Please come with me.”

Colin didn’t need to be asked twice. He all but flew to his car with Nicolas hot on his heels and made his way to the Hightown art shop in short order. Nicolas led him around to the back alley behind the shop, pointing to a spot by a few crates of supplies.

“I found it here,” he said. “She’s careful, cautious, she wouldn’t drop it. I left it for you to see, so you can figure out what’s happened to her.”

“You were right not to touch it, Nicolas,” Colin said. His voice was a little tremulous, his stomach tightening at the thought of what might be afoot. But he forced himself to be calm as he reached into his pocket and procured a pair of latex gloves to touch the book.

The sketchbook looked almost like it had simply been dropped, but it was positioned too carefully for that. It was as though someone wanted it to seem like an accident, but had left it there for them to find. Colin opened it and flipped through, hating the violation of privacy this constituted, but knowing it was necessary to answer the questions at hand. Nicolas had been right, it appeared – as Colin flipped through, he found his own image appearing more often than not. But it was what he found at the end of the book that made him freeze, his blood turning to ice.

Incongruent with the neat, skillful portraits that populated the book was a crudely done sketch of a sword against a red and black background surrounded by flames, next to which a crooked script that definitely didn’t belong to Evelyn had written the words _The Red storm is rising. The Emerald saw too much. If you want your emerald princess back, come to the place where you left her._ Colin nearly dropped the book in terror.

“They took her, didn’t they?” Nicolas asked, seeing Colin’s expression. “The Red Templars took her.”

“Yes, Nicolas.” Colin swallowed hard, shocked his voice worked at all. His brain was whirling. “Maker… they never meant they were going to steal an actual emerald. They meant _her_. But why?” He paced frantically, repeating the words from the note. “ _The Emerald saw too much._ Oh... oh, sweet blood of Andraste… they think she remembers them from the accident! They think she saw something – their faces or something that could identify them. They don’t know she doesn’t remember anything!” His legs buckled and he sank down onto one of the nearby crates. “ _They_ were the ones she saw watching her – it never had anything to do with her being nobility or her family or any of that – they just couldn’t make a move because she always had a guard. Until today… today when she went to see me.”

For a moment, it was all Colin could do not to bury his face in his hands. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t pushed her away. She never would have gone off on her own to try and find him had it not been for his actions at the party.

“She left to find you and they took her,” Nicolas said, looking panicked. “She came through here, hidden, hurt, hoping not to be seen. But _they_ saw her. They had been waiting. And they left the book for us to find. What will you do? Where is she?”

Colin shook his head to show he didn’t know and turned the words of the Red Templars’ note over in his mind. _If you want your emerald princess back, come to the place where you left her_. The place where you left her? They had left her at work, but there was no way she was here. Then, rather suddenly, it hit him.

“If you want _your_ emerald princess back,” he said aloud. “They meant for _me_ to find this letter. They know I… they know I care for her. They knew I would come.”

And at once, he knew what he had to do.

“Nicolas, run back to the barracks quick as you can and tell them what happened, show them this.” He pushed the sketchbook into the boy’s hands. “The note was written for me and the place where I left Evelyn has to refer to the alleyway by the Chantry when I left the Wintersend party. Tell Eric and the Captain that’s where I’ll be. I’m going after her.”

“But, Detective…” Nicolas’s large blue eyes were even wider than usual with alarm.

“There’s no time, Nicolas. Just go get the others while I get her. We’re not going to lose her.”

Nicolas hesitated just a moment longer, then nodded, dashing off to do as he had been told. Colin took in a deep breath, his scarred lip quirking as he steeled himself for what came next. _I’m a fool and this is all my fault,_ he said silently. _But I’m going to make it right if it kills me._


	10. The Emerald Affair, Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin finally comes face-to-face with the Red Templars to save Evelyn. Later, when things seem bleakest, it's up to Colin to face his feelings or else risk losing her forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope you've enjoyed this part of the volume! Stayed tuned, because there's more noir to come!

** The Emerald Affair – Part Three **

With not a moment to lose, Colin made his way to the Chantry at top speed. There was no one there when he arrived, the holy space quiet and still. Drawing his weapon, he made his way through the building, checking every crevice to make sure the Red Templars were not lying in wait somewhere and that there was no trap to spring. Then, cautiously, he at last made his way out to the alley, inspecting the space with a careful eye. It too was empty… or so he thought, until he heard a noise behind him and spun around to face it.

“Kirkwall PD!” he bellowed, his gun at the ready. “Come out with your hands up!”

There was a pause of deathly quiet and then, very slowly, two men emerged from the shadows both clad in red masks. The first man made an exaggerated show of lifting his hands as Colin aimed his gun. Then, almost as if mocking Colin, he methodically moved his hand over to pull the mask off of his face, revealing a smirk. His dark eyes studied the detective as he gave the mask a dismissive toss.

“Greetings, Detective Lyons. My name is Denam. It’s so nice of you to come.”

“Quiet!” Colin snapped. “Where is she?”

“She who?” asked Denam.

Colin cocked his weapon, his ire rising as he ordered his hands to remain steady. “I found the sketchbook! I know what the Red Templars did!”

“We were only following orders. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Make no mistake…” Colin growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I will shoot you both right here if you don’t let her go, the law be damned.”

“That would be a waste, Captain Lyons,” said the second man, speaking for the first time. He too pulled off his mask, but his look was far more serene than that of his companion. “We don’t have her.”

Colin froze at the old title being shaped by the lips of this stranger. “How did you…?” Never mind that. How this man knew Colin’s former rank was unimportant, all that mattered was getting Evelyn back. He lifted his gun once more. “What do you mean you don’t have her?”

“ _We_ don’t have her,” said Denam, spreading his hands. “ _He_ does.”

Both men turned in the direction of a third assailant, who was herding an extremely terrified Evelyn along in front of him as he pointed a gun to her temple. All the color had drained out of her face, and even from a slight distance it was obvious that she was shaking violently, frightened beyond reason. Colin felt his lip tremble at the sight of her wide, emerald eyes pleading, and for a moment he was so fixed on her that he almost failed to notice who the man was. “Carroll?” he breathed, shocked. “How… why…?”

“Not all of us had the options you had when you left the service, Captain,” he said briskly. “Some of us didn’t have such an easy time putting our lives back together.”

“Easy? You know nothing of my life, Carroll. I know what you’re going through…”

“Shut up!” Carroll barked, such rage and intensity in his voice that Evelyn jumped with a strangled cry of fright. He tightened his grip on her, gesturing with the gun. “You have no idea what we went through, _Detective_ ,” he said, using the word as a mocking barb. “And you never will. Now, put your gun down, nice and easy, or your girl here gets it.”

Colin hesitated for a moment, glancing between the three Red Templars and Evelyn. Denam pulled at his coat, revealing his own firearm. “Don’t do anything stupid now, Detective,” he instructed.

Conceding, Colin lifted his hands to show he wasn’t going to do anything rash, then slowly bent to set his weapon on the ground. He looked up at Evelyn as he did so. “It’s going to be all right, Evelyn,” he insisted. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I promise.”

“How sweet. I’m getting all choked up,” Denam mocked, before his voice turned hard again. “Kick the gun over here.” When Colin did as he was told, Denam gestured to the other man. “Bag that, Maddox,” he instructed, drawing his own weapon to point at Colin. “Right, you – on your knees.”

The detective obeyed, glaring defiantly at their captors. “So, what’s the price for us walking out of here alive?” he asked. “You can’t want money – you’ve stolen plenty of that on your own.”

Carroll chuckled coldly. “We’ve stolen a lot, but more is always better than less. But you’re right, we’re not angling for a payout. No, what we want has more lasting effect…” For the first time, he took the gun from Evelyn’s temple and pointed it at Colin. “That starts with your death.”

“ _No_!” Evelyn cried, struggling in Carroll’s grip as he took aim at the detective. “No, please!”

Seeing Carroll’s hold on her become nearly a stranglehold in an effort to still her, Colin likewise pleaded, holding up his hands. “Don’t hurt her when it’s me you’re after! You can kill me if you like, just let her go.”

“Colin…” Evelyn’s voice was tremulous with terror and alarm. Colin looked up at her and realized, in that moment, she was more fearful for him than herself.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?” said Carroll, gesturing with his gun as he spoke. “The dame wants the detective to live, the detective wants the dame to live. What a problem that presents. What do you think, Denam? Let them both go?” He sneered.

Denam laughed. “Cute, but we’re not really in the business of happy endings, especially not for self-righteous detectives, now are we? And, since misery loves company, I think there’s a very tidy solution – they both suffer. Kill them both.”

Their words of pleading were soundly ignored as Evelyn was roughly forced to her knees next to Colin. “Think about what you’re doing,” he insisted. “Killing a police officer and a civilian will not go unnoticed. Stand down now and you might be looking at the difference between life in prison and the death penalty.”

“You really are a naïve fool, Lyons.” Carroll shook his head. “We always had plans to disappear when the last job was over – netting you was just an added perk. After the pair of you are dead, we’ll be on our way to Rivain to live like kings. And this time, we’ll make sure not to cause any car accidents that produce pretty little thorns in our side like the last time.” He glared at Evelyn. “Paxley paid dearly for that slip-up, he did.”

Evelyn glanced at Colin and the look in her eyes was so familiar to Colin it nearly choked him – he had seen that look during combat. He had seen it on his own face. It was one of terror so deep that it defied description or comprehension. But although he knew he should feel something similar, he somehow couldn’t. His mind was a white blur of nothing but pain and anguish and regret. He had failed her, and the thought that she would die here with him was worse than anything he could imagine. And yet, as Denam pressed his gun to the back of her head and Carroll aimed his at Colin, he could feel Evelyn reach out and seize his hand, holding it as if the idea of dying with him gave her some comfort.

There was a moment of still inaction that seemed to go on forever. Then, a shot rang out, and Evelyn let out a scream, followed a second later by a gasp of confusion as she realized the shot came from neither Denam nor Carroll. Both men seemed to realize it too as their gazes shifted to Maddox. The third man had been silently watching the proceedings when he let out a cry of pain and slumped, having been winged in the shoulder, and now he clutched the bleeding wound with gritted teeth. Colin looked up and saw that, across the rooftops, several officers from the police barracks had taken up snipers’ positions and were firing on Denam and Carroll with absolute precision.

The men lifted their guns at once, Evelyn and Colin entirely forgotten as they rushed to defend themselves against the arriving cavalry. Colin all but threw himself at Evelyn in order to cover her body with his own, protecting her from the bullets. She turned instinctively, half numb with terror, and wrapped her arms around him as he cradled her.

“You’re all right, it’s all right,” he told her hastily over the din of gunfire. She was still trembling and her breath was coming so quickly Colin was worried she wouldn’t be able to get enough air into her lungs to sustain the waves of panicked adrenaline.

However, the firefight was over as quickly as it started and within seconds both Denam and Carroll joined Maddox bleeding and writhing in the dirt. Colin looked around, realizing they were safe again and pulled himself and Evelyn up into a somewhat seated position.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded frantically, checking her over for any wounds. “Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head, tears blurring her eyes. He pulled her to his chest, allowing her to weep into his shirtfront as the raw fear of the terrible event took full hold.

“We’re okay, we’re okay. Shh, it’s all right.” He soothed her, rocking back and forth with her in his arms. “Oh, Evelyn, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His own eyes were wet, but he forced himself to remain strong for her.

“Curly! Siren!” He looked over to see Eric and Captain Hendallen stowing their own weapons as they ran over, Eric coming to the pair, the Captain and a few other men rushing to cuff the wounded Red Templars. “Talk to me!”

“We’re all right, Eric,” he assured his partner. Evelyn had stopped crying, but she and Colin were still plastered together, nearly unable to move. Eric placed a hand on Colin’s shoulder and helped them both to stand. Colin supported Evelyn’s arms, unsure she could stand by her own power, and put a hand to her cheek in order to get her to look up at him.

“You’re safe, Evelyn. You’re safe.”

* * *

It took several minutes before either Colin or Evelyn could be persuaded to let go of one another – and they only broke apart at last when the paramedics arrived. Maddox, Denam, and Carroll had long since been bundled into a cruiser and the alleyway was crawling with Hendallen’s officers, processing the scene. Colin only went to the paramedics because both the captain and Eric insisted, but after two minutes of allowing himself to be checked over, he waved them away, swearing he was fine. His gaze instead roved over to Evelyn, who was once again sitting in the back of an ambulance thanks to these accursed Red Templars. She was going to be all right – physically, at least – but the thought of all she had gone through because of these monsters was enough to make Colin near murderous.

It was at that time that Captain Hendallen finished speaking to one of the officers and came to stand at Colin’s side. “What exactly happened, Detective?” she inquired.

He sighed, recounting the tale. “We were under the impression the Red Templars would be hitting another bank, Captain,” he explained. “But they were actually after Miss Maxwell. They were responsible for that car accident, only at the time they probably assumed no one had survived. I suppose they were able to put two and two together and when they realized she was the sole survivor, they targeted her because they feared she knew something. She didn’t, of course, but they didn’t know that.”

Colin also privately suspected part of the motivation behind her kidnapping was some sort of sick ploy to get to him, but he kept that to himself. The captain seemed to suspect he was holding that piece of information back, but she said nothing, merely nodding.

“Very well, Detective, I’ll expect a full report on my desk in a few days. In the interim, go home and get some rest.” She turned to go, then suddenly halted. “Oh, and Detective – good work today.”

Colin inclined his head in thanks as she departed, but couldn’t quite feel the same as she did. His mind buzzed unpleasantly with just how close they had cut it, and he was still lost in thought when Eric drifted up to replace the captain.

“You all right, kid?” the other detective asked.

“I’m fine.” Colin met his partner’s eyes for a moment, then looked to Evelyn again. “She… Andraste preserve me, she almost _died_ , Eric.”

“But she didn’t,” Eric reminded him.

“Yes, but… because of me, she-”

“She made it through, Colin.” It was so rare for Eric to use his real name that it caused the younger detective to look over in some surprise. Eric was regarding him seriously. “She made it through _because of you_.”

“I’m not so sure of that myself,” Colin muttered, raking his hands through his hair. “I can’t help but think… those men knew who I was – who I was before this. I have a feeling this isn’t over.”

“Maybe not. But at least for today it’s over and we won. That’s something, kid. Take some pleasure in winning the battle – there are plenty more coming in the war.”

“I know,” said Colin. “And this isn’t just a war… it’s the only war.”

* * *

Per the captain’s order, Colin was sent first to the hospital to be checked and then was sent home to recover for a few days. He tried to insist that he was fine – that he had come close to death before more times than he cared to remember – but his protests were summarily ignored. Therefore, while the others were left to clean up the aftermath of the kidnapping, he was left alone to silently contemplate the weight of everything that had happened.

He hadn’t seen Evelyn since the whole thing happened. The Orlesian doctor at the hospital merely confirmed for him that she would be all right after a little rest and some time to put the whole situation behind her, and yet that hardly felt sufficient. His guilt over the whole thing was enough to drive him mad, his desire to help her without having any ability to do so enough to break him down. He was starting to feel like a ghost, like he had exited his body and was simply drifting around silently, unable to keep still for very long. No one seemed to understand that what he needed was to recover not from his own ordeal, but from _hers_. Or perhaps they did understand that and simply didn’t know how to help. After all, he didn’t really know how to help himself.

On the evening of the third day (or maybe the fourth, the days were starting to blur together), Colin found himself sitting in the dark of his living room, watching as cars rolled down the moist, rain-drenched streets in the aftermath of a thunderstorm. It had been raining almost non-stop since his leave of absence began – it often rained in Kirkwall, but he was almost grateful for it now, as it quite succinctly represented his own turbulent mood. Therefore, he was surprised when a knock sounded on his door. Whoever was out on a night like this must be determined, but why they were determined to see _him_ he could only begin to guess.

It was Nicolas. “Detective,” he said gravely, his eyes as pale as the rain and drenched with sorrow, “I have something for you.”

Colin’s brow immediately furrowed, a note of dread creeping into him at the tone of Nicolas’s voice. “Of course. Come inside, Nicolas.” He held the door open a bit wider so the boy could enter. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes. Wrong. Now I know why it’s raining, and there’s no sun to keep the rainbow in the sky.” With some visible reluctance, he surrendered an envelope bearing Colin’s name. He opened it, a little uneasily, and found a short note in prim handwriting, like an old-fashioned invitation. But this was no invitation.

> _By the time you read this, Detective, I will be on my way back to Ostwick. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’ve decided that it will be best for everyone if I go home. The life I sought to escape is probably the one I need to accept. I just wanted to say thank you for your many kindnesses, and for your work to resolve my case. Please give my regards to Eric and the other officers, and share my gratitude with Captain Hendallen. Above all, though, please look after Nicolas - and yourself. I wish you the best._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Evelyn Maxwell_

 

Within seconds of starting the note, Colin could feel his throat tighten. About halfway through it, he could feel himself groping for the arm of a nearby chair, sinking into its cushion as if he hoped it would swallow him whole. He had been telling himself for a while now that he couldn’t possibly be with Evelyn, that she deserved better than him. And yet that assertion didn’t make giving her up any easier.

“Nicolas…” he managed at last, his voice shaking worse than the hands that clutched Evelyn’s letter. “When did she leave this for me?”

“A little while ago. I went to the shop and she was finishing paperwork to leave… the owner was sorry to see her go. Everyone is sorry to see her go.” Nicolas shook his head. “She asked me to give it to you because she said you don’t like to see her. I don’t understand.”

Nicolas’s words hit Colin like a bottle being broken over his head and he sucked in a sharp, pained breath. “No, it’s not that. It’s never been that. I…” He shook his head, and passed a hand over his eyes. “Seeing her is when I truly feel alive. Oh, what a mess I’ve made of things.”

“I don’t like that she went away. But she said it hurt too much to stay any longer… she wouldn’t tell me more than that. She’s sad all the time, in the rain.” Nicolas looked miserable. “Maybe Ostwick has sun for her. She left her sketchbook,” he added. “She said I should keep it to remember her by. I don’t want to remember her. I want her to be here.”

“I know, Nicolas. I want her to be here too.” Colin’s voice broke. “I want her here… with me.”

“Did you ever tell her that?”

“No. No, I thought she deserved better than all this. Better than me. I thought it was what needed to happen.” He shook his head again. “Now I don’t know.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t be about what she deserves, Detective,” said Nicolas, thoughtfully. “Maybe it should be about what she wants. And what you want. Because I think they might be the same thing.”

“I’ve made such a mess,” Colin repeated and sighed a tortured sigh. “All this time and I made her feel so unwanted. She could have… she could have died never knowing how I really felt.” His voice was full of self-loathing.

“You should go to her,” Nicolas urged. “Tell her. Maybe there’s time. Detective Varras said there would be.”

Colin nodded, the wheels of his mind obviously turning. “Yes… yes, I think you’re right. I have to. I can’t let it end this way.” He was on his feet at once, gathering his coat. “She might still be at the train station and with any luck I can…” Abruptly, he stopped, turning back to face the boy. “Wait, Eric said there would be?” he repeated.

“I didn’t know where you lived,” Nicolas explained. “I went to Detective Varras. He brought me here. He said, ‘when Curly comes to his senses, I’ll drive him to the train station.’ He’s outside.”

Colin crossed over to the window and moved the curtain to look. Sure enough, the familiar car was idling across the street. In spite of the deep sense of anguish that was plaguing him, Colin couldn’t help but smile weakly. “Well, I’ll not keep him waiting then,” he said, quickly donning his coat. “Why don’t you come too, my boy?”

Nicolas nodded. “I will help, if I can.”

* * *

Eric didn’t speak right away when they got into his car; he merely looked at his watch. “Took a bit longer than I thought you would, Curly. You’re more stubborn than I realized,” he said, waiting only long enough for Nicolas to fasten his seat belt before he shifted into gear. “Let’s go get your girl.”

“Provided she’s even still in the city,” said Colin, his voice betraying how nervous he was. “Provided she even wants to speak to me after what I’ve done. Maker, I’ve been such a fool.”

“I tried to warn you,” came the mild rebuke. Eric was driving as fast as he dared in the conditions. “If she’s there, we’ll find her. If she’s not there, we’ll put you on the next train to Ostwick and you can track her down. You need to get it out of your system, kid. Even if she turns you down flat, at least you’ll know you tried. But I don’t see that happening.”

“You knew all along, didn’t you? Of course you did. I thought it was just teasing, but all those comments you made…”

“There’s teasing and then there’s teasing. Give me a little credit, I know what lovesick looks like.”

“I think everyone knows that except me.” Colin sighed. “Maker forgive me for driving her to this.”

“I’m sure the Maker understands. He was lovesick once too.”

* * *

Several minutes later (though it felt more like a couple of years), they pulled into the train station’s parking lot. “Run for it, Curly. The kid and I will wait here - call if you need backup,” Eric advised him.

“I will.” Colin was half out of the car already, not needing to be told twice. “Thank you both for doing this. No matter what happens, I’m in your debt.”

Without waiting for a response, he did as his partner suggested and took off at a run, shouldering his way through the crowd. If anyone questioned his pell-mell dash, he merely flashed his badge and kept going.

Evelyn stood slightly apart from the crowd that was waiting to board the train. She carried only a small suitcase, and her raincoat gleamed in the dim light. The mist seemed to frame both her and the hulking black locomotive which loomed in the near distance, glowering at Colin like some sort of behemoth judging him for his sins. She didn’t look up even when others around her took notice of Colin’s approach, muttering to each other about the badge; her gaze was distant and forlorn.

It took Colin a moment to spot her through the fog as he slowed to a halt, his breathing slightly belabored. Andraste preserve him, what if he had missed her? The thought sent a bolt of fear running through him and he massaged his chest roughly, ordering his heart to stop thundering (which, he knew, was only partially because of his sprint) as he looked around. When he spotted her a moment later, he felt that blasted faulty ticker of his give a lurch of several emotions all at once - relief that he hadn’t in fact missed her, pain at the expression in her emerald eyes, mingled terror and hope at what was to come next.

“Evelyn!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard over the noise of the station.

After a moment, she seemed to register his voice, and she turned toward him in what seemed to be genuine shock. “What are you doing here, Col- Detective?”

He crossed the distance that separated them as quickly as he could. “I got your letter,” he explained, still a little breathless, his voice pitched to a more normal level now that he could speak with her face to face. The emotion in his tone was obvious. “I had to come. I couldn’t… please… not like this.”

“I didn’t think you’d… want to see me.” Her throat rippled as she evidently swallowed; her bright eyes were dimmed with a weariness that Colin could almost physically feel within himself. “I thought the note would be better.”

“No, I… I always want to see you,” he insisted, his tone tight with emotion. “I never… I never meant for…” He faltered and shook his head. “Evelyn, I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything,” she replied. It was true, technically speaking - he had done nothing at all. That was the worst part. “It was all me. I saw more than I should have, and… it doesn’t really matter. It was kind of you to come and see me off.”

“You didn’t see more than you should have, Evelyn, please don’t blame yourself. This is my fault. I… I thought you deserved better, but I never stopped to ask what you wanted. It was selfish.” His eyes were slightly wet and he squeezed them shut for a moment in an effort to steel himself. “ _I_ was selfish. And that sickens me.”

Before she could respond, they heard the conductor. “All aboard for Ostwick, Tantervale, and points east!” The crowd around them started to lurch, and she stepped aside to let people pass.

“I… that’s my train,” she said miserably. “I’d… better go.”

“Evelyn, please. Is this… is this what you really want?” His effort to school his emotions was a failure and he could practically feel himself losing the battle with them as he spoke in a shaking voice. “Because if it is, then I won’t stand in your way. But if it isn’t what you want… then please stay. Please. You mean the world to so many people here. You mean the world to…”

“Give me a reason,” she murmured throatily, her eyes glimmering with rain mixed with unshed tears. People were pushing past her. “Give me a reason to stay.”

This was it, the reason why he had come in the first place, the reason why he had dashed the length of the train station to find her - to say these words that had been so hard to say for so long. He watched her for a moment, his heart cut to ribbons and his breathing irregular as he fought against the tears that threatened to choke him. He thought of her in Ostwick in some noble household, living in luxurious despair and never knowing for certain how he felt. He thought of her in the back alleyway where he had cradled her in his arms, and imagined for a moment her growing cold in his embrace, the words his lips longed to shape never being given voice. He thought of her now, half in tears on a train platform, begging for a reason to stay in Kirkwall – a reason only he could provide.

And, after months of hiding it, he could hide it no longer.

“I’m in love with you,” he said at last, his voice surprisingly steady and full of conviction.

She blinked, her mouth opening as she let out a little gasp of astonishment. Then she shook her head, turning away. “You don’t have to - I don’t want you feeling sorry for me - I mean…”

“I don’t,” Colin interrupted gently, shaking his head. “Well, I do, but only because I pushed you away and made you feel… like this. But that’s not… I’m not saying this out of pity. I’ve felt this way for a while now - I couldn’t even quite say when it started. Perhaps even when I first laid eyes on you.” He chanced a step forward. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night. You mean the world to me. Truly.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, and there was a strange combination of both pain and hope in her tone. “All those times I thought for sure you felt… and then you’d pull away.”

“I wanted to tell you, oh Maker, how I wanted to tell you. I thought about it so many times. But I couldn’t… not when you have the whole world ahead of you and I have nothing to offer. I’m such a terribly broken thing and I couldn’t stand the thought of you stuck here trying to fix me, always worrying about where I was and what I was doing. I thought you deserved a better life than one spent trying to glue me back together.”

“Colin…” The way she said his name always had a vaguely electric quality, like the smell of the air after a lightning strike. “Colin, you aren’t a broken thing; you’re brave and noble and loyal. You don’t need to be fixed, I want you just as you are…” She took a step forward, her eyes searching his face. Behind her, the train whistle blew and the conductor bellowed a final boarding call. It seemed that before she could make a decision about whether to go or stay, she had one request. “Kiss me.”

For a moment, it was all Colin could do to blink at her in shock, almost positive he had misheard her or imagined her words entirely. But no, they were as real as the hammering in his heart or the small note of strange exhilaration and fear that seemed to live there. But there was nothing more frightening in that moment than the prospect of goodbye and so, after months of rejecting this impulse, he finally obeyed, pressing his lips to hers.

It was a cautious and hesitant kiss, but the sensation that came with it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It felt like a puzzle piece being slipped into place, it felt like homecoming, it felt like rain after a drought - gentle, sweet, and all too short.

He pulled away a few heartbeats later and for several more heartbeats they simply stared at each other. Evelyn blinked, and it was difficult to tell whether the moisture on her face was from tears or the mist. Maybe both. “You really want me to stay? You really… want me?”

“More than _anything_ ,” he promised, gathering her hands in his own. “I should have told you so from the start and never stopped saying it. I should have told you just how much I love you. Please don’t go. The thought of losing you… I can’t…”

She paused, and glanced over her shoulder. “The train is leaving,” she managed hoarsely. “And I… am not.” Turning back to him, she smiled for the first time since he arrived. “You’re all I’ve _ever_ wanted. I love you too, Colin. I’ll always love you.”

At her assertion, a smile of relief and unbridled joy crossed Colin’s face, joy so deep he practically ached from it. At once, he gathered her to his chest in a tender embrace. “Well, then, may the Maker and you forgive me for the time I’ve wasted. Oh, Evelyn… darling... I promise, I’ll never stop trying to be worthy of you.”

“You don’t have to try,” she assured him. “You’re here. That’s all I could ask.”

His smile widened, if such a thing was even possible, and for a moment he merely studied her.

“Here,” he said at last, reaching into his pocket. “The day I left for my military training, my brother gave me this.” He opened his palm to reveal a silver coin. “It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck. It was the only thing I took from Ferelden that the military didn’t give me… and I’d like for you to have it.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened. “Oh, Colin,” she said softly. “Oh, you’re sweet, but I can’t take this from you – not when it’s the last memento of your life before.”

“You’re not taking it, I’m giving it freely. Think of it as a way to show I’m keeping that promise - and making another… the promise that one day, I’ll make it official, I swear to you.” He pressed the coin to his lips for several seconds before slipping it into her hand.

Her eyes were a little misty as she blinked at him and she clutched the coin to her chest for a moment. “I’ll keep it safe,” she vowed. “I think your family would approve of something from your past becoming a symbol of your future, you know. You say you’re not worthy of it, but I can’t think of anyone more worthy. I’m glad this can be a promise of the days to come.”

“The days to come,” he repeated, looking near rapturous. “I can’t wait for each one of them. I… I don’t have much to offer, Evelyn – I have no title besides ‘Detective’, and not much coin to my name. I wake up at least three times a week in a cold sweat from the nightmares. My doctors all warn that, with my heart like it is, this job could kill me one day…”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said gently. “You have a great deal to offer – yourself. As long as I can have that, I’m happy.”

“Well, I think I can promise that,” he said, smiling.

Then, his hands finding her cheeks, he tilted her head back gently for another kiss, the first kiss of the rest of their lives, a kiss that held the promise of many tomorrows. The formerly crowded platform was empty of all but themselves as the train rolled away, leaving them together in the mist, oblivious to everything but each other. The future was still a mystery, as foggy as the port of Kirkwall on a winter morning. But for the first time in his life, Detective Colin Lyons was almost glad he had no idea what the future held. It meant the moments could be even more precious.


	11. The Ruby Operation, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A specter from Eric's past comes back into his life seeking protection from the Carta, bringing with her a new mystery, whispers of a sinister precious jewel, and trouble for both of Kirkwall's finest detectives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay in getting this posted. Also, this first part is a little longer than the others, mostly because I liked the flow too much to want to have a chapter break in the middle of this particular section. We hope you enjoy and stay tuned for the next parts, which will be posted soon!

 

It was another rainy night in Kirkwall, and the dirty streets of white stone gleamed wherever lamplight struck the puddled surface. Eric Varras was approximately knee-deep into a new bottle of whiskey, trying to stave off a chill that existed only inside of himself. These were the kinds of nights that could cut a man’s soul open and leave it bare to the elements, and he frankly was not in the mood.

Things weren’t so bad for him, not really. It had been almost two years since Captain Hendallen had assigned him a partner, and as partners went, Colin Lyons was all right. Nosy sometimes, and a little too eager to see Eric settled, but a good guy on the whole. He was himself settling into happy domesticity with a pretty wife and adopted teenage son, and a baby on the way besides; apparently he thought the condition should be contagious. Outside of that, however, Eric had no complaints about the guy he had dubbed “Curly.”

But settling down wasn’t for him.

He’d thought it was, once. Everybody had a story about ‘the one who got away,’ and Eric was no exception to the rule. The one who got away had done it in a breathtakingly stunning manner - talked about elopement, spoke of love and other pretty things, and then left him standing alone in the rain on a night very much like this one. A week later, she was married to a guy she’d met on the internet. At least, that was the rumor; that she was married to somebody who wasn’t Eric was an undisputed fact.

He thought about her as little as possible, but when he was alone on a night like this, she had a funny way of stealing back into his thoughts. It was true to her nature, after all.

Buried as it was by the noise of rain and memory, the knocking on his door almost completely eluded him. However, after a second the knocking became slightly more assertive, as if the person on the other side of the door was demanding attention come hell or high water. Clearly they would not be ignored.

Who would be intruding upon his delicious misery at such an hour, Eric couldn’t even begin to guess. Grudgingly, he abandoned his liquid consolation and made his way to the door, yanking it open with one hand while keeping his other hand on the gun at his waist.

The figure that stood on the threshold, half obscured by the shadows, was clad in a brown trench coat, the hood of which crowned a bowed head. At the sound of the door opening, however, the interloper looked up and a familiar pair of callused hands reached to pull the hood down. “Why, hello, Eric.”

It took everything in him not to swear silently under his breath at the sight of the woman standing in front of him.

He stared at her for a moment in utter dismay, as though she were some kind of specter who might vanish back where she belonged in the nether regions of his memory. It quickly became apparent that she wasn’t going anywhere, however, and he sighed. “Gwen.”

She chuckled slightly. If she was aware of his inner turmoil, she certainly wasn’t showing it. “The very same,” she replied. “Mind if I step inside where it’s dry?”

Despite his better judgment, Eric took a step backward and gestured for her to cross the threshold. “Must be desperate if you’re visiting me on a night like this,” he remarked.

“Sometimes a girl’s got to go to people she can trust,” she said, stepping inside with a little nod. Looking around the space, she shrugged off her coat and left the wet garment on a nearby rack. It had been years, yet somehow she managed to look like hardly a day had passed.

“This should be interesting. What kind of disaster have you gotten into this time? And why can’t you go to what’s-his-name for help?”

“Last time I checked, _you’re_ the detective,” she remarked, the corners of her lips quirking. “Jewel smuggling is definitely more in your wheelhouse than it is in Boyd's.”

“Yeah, him.” Eric eyed her sidelong. “How the hell did you get involved with jewel smuggling? That’s pretty out there even for you.”

“Like most things, there’s a good story involved. What do you say you pour me a glass of that whiskey and I’ll tell you the whole tale?”

“You sure what’s-his-name isn’t going to come searching for you?” he retorted, but he pulled out a glass all the same.

“He’s in Nevarra on business until Friday, I think we’re safe.” She pulled a chair over and arranged herself on the other side of his desk. When her glass was full, she studied it thoughtfully, then lifted it slightly in Eric’s direction. “Here’s to old times.”

“Hm.” He watched her with narrowed eyes, too well-versed in her little tricks and teases; he wasn’t comfortable with getting caught up in all of that again. “Well, tell me what this is about. If you need help and I can help you, I will, but this all needs to be completely straightforward. You try to play me again, I’m done.”

One of Gwen’s dark eyebrows lifted, but she nodded. “Duly noted,” she remarked mildly, taking a contemplative drink from her glass as she evidently tried to stretch the promised explanation. “Tell me, Detective Varras… have you ever heard of a ruby called the Red Lyrium Crystal?”

Eric pondered the question for a moment. “It rings a bell,” he said finally, “but it’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. I assume you know something about its current status.”

“Yes. Somehow, the location was leaked and it’s caught the attention of some smugglers… with Carta ties. If they decide to go after it - and they will - things could get ugly fast.”

“No denying that. But how does this involve you?”

“I also know where the ruby is located. Started off harmless enough, now suddenly I’m in the middle of a smuggling operation and I have no desire to stay there. That’s why I came to you - I need help getting out of it.”

Eric frowned. Something didn’t add up - although when it came to Gwen, that was standard operating procedure. “You knowing the ruby’s location got you involved with smuggling? How’d they know you knew where it was? And what difference did it make?”

“I helped build the vault where the thing was stored. Someone must have told them about my involvement and… well, you know the Carta and their affiliates don’t usually ignore leads like that. I played along for my own safety, but I know I need to get out of this before I’m in too deep to do so.”

“Oh.” Well, that made sense; Gwen was a highly-regarded engineer who had often helped to devise security mechanisms for banks and private individuals. And she was right, that was not the sort of lead the Carta tended to ignore. It was the chief reason she frequently employed pseudonyms when accepting jobs, and also the chief reason he rarely spoke about her with anyone. Well, that and his general dislike of dredging up painful memories, but mostly for her protection. “All right, let’s see what we can do. I assume what’s-his-name doesn’t know anything about this.”

“Correct assumption.” She rolled her eyes teasingly, clearly noticing Eric’s refusal to call her husband by his name, no matter how many times she said it. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t find out.”

“Let’s hope not. I’ll need to bring my partner in on this, and the captain, but otherwise we’re going to try to keep it quiet.”

“Are you concerned for me or for yourself?” she replied with a little grin.

“A little of column A, a little of column B. I _am_ the expendable one,” he retorted.

They were both silent for a moment until she leaned back in the chair, her gaze suddenly becoming one of curiosity. “So they gave you a partner, huh?”

“Yeah, Curly’s all right. Friendly, good-looking, sort of a paragon type.”

“I would have thought that type would drive you up the wall,” she observed, amused, “but that sounded almost like praise.”

“It is,” he replied simply. “I have no complaints. It’s good to work with someone I can trust.”

“Well, if you trust this partner of yours, that’s good enough for me.” She gave a little shrug. “Guess I’ll stop by again tomorrow and we can go from there?”

“Be easier if you can come to the barracks. I can access our computers and whatnot there. But if you’re worried about being seen…”

“No, I’ll be all right. I have ways of not being seen.”

“Come by after lunch. I can brief Curly by then.” He gave her a curt nod, his mind spinning.

“I look forward to it.” Lifting her glass to him again, she drained its contents before turning it over on his desk. “Thanks for the drink.”

* * *

“So that’s what went down.”

Eric had brought coffee and doughnuts to the station and was in close quarters consultation with Colin the following morning. He was still feeling a little queasy about the whole thing; even the doughnuts weren’t altogether helping.

Colin had listened to Eric speak, steadily raising one eyebrow as the tale went on. Now he shook his head. “Maker’s breath, quite the story. And I had no idea you… named your typewriter after a real person.”

“I’m a closet sentimentalist, what can I say.” Eric looked a little disgruntled at the very notion. “Slowly driving it out of me with whiskey, but I have a ways to go since I don’t actually drink all that much. Speaking of sentimentality, before we get any farther, how’s Siren feeling?”

Colin smiled in a way that suggested he knew the subject was being changed, but that he was more than happy to take the bait. “She’s tired and the baby keeps kicking her in the ribs, but you know how strong my wife is, so she’s doing well.” There was nothing but pride and adoration in the younger detective’s tone. “Additionally, I have instructions to pick up ‘something vanilla’ on my way home,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t let me forget.”

“Duly noted. Have you sold her on naming the kid after me yet?” In spite of his unease, Eric grinned.

Colin laughed. “Indeed, perfect name for a son. But I have a strange feeling it’s a girl.”

“Luckily it has a female variant too. Meanwhile, any ideas about this ruby BS?”

“I don’t know, Eric. I can’t help but feel like there’s more to this story that isn’t being shared with us.”

“Considering the person involved, I’d bet good coin that’s true. I just don’t know what the secret is.” He sighed. “She’ll be here after lunch. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

“If nothing else, it will be interesting, I’m sure.” Colin studied him for a moment. “I can meet with her alone if you prefer.”

“It’s fine. I’m as indifferent as I can be, under the circumstances. I’ll be okay.”

“If you’re sure. Hopefully this will be fairly open and shut, and we can help her get out from underneath the Carta’s thumb as painlessly as possible.”

“Right. Right. When this is over, I’m going to need something stronger than whiskey.”

If nothing else, Gwen was at least prompt and a few hours later, Barrett was showing her into Colin and Eric’s shared office. “Thank you for coming to see us, Miss Davis,” Colin said, gesturing to a chair.

“Gwen, Detective Lyons. Curly, Gwen. Curly knows everything I do at this point, but you’re going to have to give us any details we’re missing,” said Eric evenly.

“Oh, so this is the partner.” Gwen studied Colin for a moment, then held out a hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you. I wish the circumstances were better, but I hear good things about you from Eric.”

“Curly’s about to be a dad for the second time. When we have down time, we talk about baby names,” Eric noted.

“So _this_ is your day to day now.” Gwen shook Colin’s hand, then looked to Eric with some amusement. “Doing paperwork and talking baby names. I admit, it’s not what I pictured.”

“You left out the skulking, hard drinking, and occasional gunshot wound.”

“Now _that’s_ more what I was picturing.”

Colin cleared his throat, taking his own chair and opening his notebook. “Well, about this ruby…”

“Right.” Gwen nodded, all business once more. “Are you familiar with the Red Lyrium? It’s named after something from a Fereldan storybook, apparently.”

“I heard the story as a child,” said Colin. “The legend said dwarves used to mine a magical blue stone called lyrium, but that red lyrium had… darker properties. I didn’t know they named a ruby after it until Eric briefed me.”

“Mmhmm. It’s just fanciful naming - the ruby doesn’t have any kind of special properties, at least none I ever heard about. What it does have is an exceptional quality,” she explained. “It’s regarded as one of the most priceless treasures in all of Thedas. There is no other ruby to compare with it in terms of color or clarity, plus it’s pretty damn big. About the size of my fist. So naturally it’s incredibly valuable.”

“And Eric told me you designed the vault it was kept in. Who has a stone that valuable?” Colin asked.

“Until not too long ago, it was the property of the former Queen of Ferelden,” Gwen replied. “Queen Lenora had received it as a wedding gift when she married King Aidan, from the Queen of Antiva. After King Aidan’s unfortunate early death, the throne passed to his half-brother Alexander, who helped usher in the Fereldan democracy. Lenora took the ruby with her when she left the palace - she reasoned that it was her personal property, and I guess Alexander either didn’t know about it or didn’t see a point in arguing with her about it because she had no opposition. Anyway, she settled down as a noble in Gwaren and she’s the one who had me build the vault for it.”

“So how did the Carta find out about it after all this time?” Colin mused, more to the open air than to anyone in particular. “And how do we make sure they don’t get it?”

“Somebody leaked the news that Lenora – I forget what her formal title is since the democracy kicked in – will be going on a goodwill tour on her brother-in-law’s behalf,” she said with a shrug. “Antiva, Rivain, and Nevarra. She’ll be gone for the rest of the year, and she’s not taking the ruby with her for relatively obvious reasons. Apparently the Carta’s been on the hunt for this thing for a while, but nobody was quite sure if it survived the fire that killed King Aidan.”

“Right.” Colin finished scribbling his notes, then regarded Gwen seriously. “You’ve risked a lot bringing this information to us. Until this is all sorted out, you should have police protection.”

“I suppose I could stay with Eric,” she teased. He glanced at Colin with an expression that seemed to convey _help me_ more than anything.

“Unfortunately,” said Captain Hendallen, entering with an almost otherworldly level of promptness, “I need both of the detectives ready to move on this case. I will speak to Sergeant Barrett about a protection detail. It won’t be the first time,” she added, chuckling slightly as she glanced in Colin’s direction.

“That’s true,” said a very relieved Eric. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to clarify things, he added to Gwen, “Curly met his wife on one of our cases, and she had to have a protection detail watching her at all times. Our guys are the best at what they do.”

“Well, I feel safer already.” Gwen’s tone was slightly dry, but she nodded tactfully to the captain.

“Good,” said Hendallen. To Colin and Eric, she added, “I’ll expect regular reports, detectives.”

“You got it, boss lady. Get Barrett to take Gwen back to wherever she’s staying - we’ll hop a train and go talk with Lady Lenora,” Eric decided. “See if she’s received any credible threats or anything like that which could give us a direction.”

“If nothing else, she at least needs to know what’s going on,” Colin agreed as the captain disappeared to find Barrett.

“Looks like you don’t get much chance to be bored. And here I thought maybe I was giving you a distraction from the doldrums,” Gwen mused. “Well, I guess you know how to contact this Barrett if you need to give me information.”

“Yes, we’ll call him if anything comes up and he will have instructions to do likewise.” Colin nodded. “Before we part ways, Miss Davis, is there anything else we should know?”

“Not really.” Eric knew Gwen too well not to recognize the tiny flash of unease in her eyes. “Just try not to keep me waiting too long, Eric. I’ve got my own work to do, you know.”

Colin lifted an eyebrow at the remark and glanced at Eric, but said nothing. Only when Sergeant Barrett arrived a few moments later to collect Gwen, did he elect to break the silence. “Well… that could have gone worse, I suppose.”

“Right, that’s not going to be trouble or anything,” Eric said with a sigh. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

“All right. I’ll call Ev and let her know I’m going to be a little late, then I’ll bring the car around. I suspect the sooner we crack this case the better… for all of us.”

“Curly, you have no idea.” He paused briefly. “Tell Siren not to worry, she’ll get her vanilla. I’ll call to have something delivered so she doesn’t have to wait.”

Colin immediately smiled. “Oh, that’s perfect. Thank you, Eric, I appreciate that. And I know she will too.”

“Your kids are the only chance I get to play uncle. Might as well not be completely useless at it.” He half-smiled before turning away and pulling out his phone. Andraste’s sacred knickers, why did Gwen have to show up now?

* * *

Within half an hour, they were on a train to Starkhaven, where the former queen was staying on her way to Nevarra. Colin was mostly silent as they sat in the train’s dining car, studying his phone as he scrolled through what little information he could find about the Red Lyrium Crystal. Occasionally, he would offer some tidbit he had gleaned from Google, but that was the extent of his contributions.

Eric appreciated the general silence, but he had the nagging feeling that something was hanging in the air, and he finally gave up. “Go ahead, ask whatever it is you want to ask me.”

“Who said I wanted to ask anything?” Colin replied. After a moment, however, he clearly gave in and sighed a little. “Eric… I don’t mean to pry, but… I couldn’t help but notice there seems to be a lot of bad blood between you and Gwen.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Eric’s tone was almost normal.

“Look, I completely understand if you’d prefer not to bring up the past,” said Colin. “In fact, I probably understand it better than anyone. But you can tell me anything - I’m your partner.”

“I know. Well, for starters, we’re technically supposed to be at least a hundred leagues away from each other at all times, and if her husband finds out where she is it could get really ugly.”

“A hundred leagues? Her husband?” Colin lifted an eyebrow. “I suppose I just assumed… well, actually, I’m not quite certain what I assumed really.”

“Curly.” Eric was almost amused. Almost. “She’s my ex.”

“Well, I guessed it was something… like that… but she seemed very…” Colin shook his head. “Maker’s breath, forget I said anything.”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s as okay as it’s ever likely to get. You’ve just met the reason I’m a confirmed bachelor, basically.” He shrugged. “She took ‘dumping’ to a whole other level. Probably best to leave it at that. Though I hear the wedding was lovely - the one she actually showed up for, that is.”

Colin cringed. “Oh, I see. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. We’ll do everything in our power to make sure this is fixed quickly, you have my word. And then, when it’s over, your drinks are on me.”

“I appreciate that.” Eric paused, and snorted. “So now when I tell you I don’t have a date, you won’t push?” he snarked.

“No, I promise I won’t push again. I completely understand why you’re… hesitant,” Colin assured him. “Unless, of course, you end up in a situation with someone much like I was in with Evelyn. Then I reserve the right to rescind that promise.”

“Never gonna happen, but sure, I’ll give you that one. I don’t see you driving me to the train station to chase a girl.” There had been a time when Eric would have done a lot more than that if it meant she would stay; now he just wanted to move on. “I was young; that’s my only defense. Relatively speaking, of course, we all know I came into the world in my thirties.”

“Well, we all have a past,” Colin mused. “Only the truly lucky ones get a future, though. I don’t know about you, but I think the latter sounds better to me.”

“My future involves being the whiskey uncle to your kids and maybe turning some of our weirder cases into a book. I can live with that. Now, has your phone taught you anything useful about this mess?”

“Oh, right.” Colin glanced down at the device as if he had forgotten what he had been doing previously. “Not much, I’m afraid. Mostly it’s information Gwen already told us - about then-Queen Lenora being presented with the ruby as a gift, a few articles appraising how much the stone is worth, even some news sites speculating the gem may have been a target when the Red Templars were still terrorizing Thedas. But otherwise, the information is scant.”

“The Red Templar angle is not a bad theory,” Eric acknowledged. “But I don’t think those rank amateurs have anything on the Carta. The Carta is massive, organized, and ruthless.” He pondered the matter. “Though if the ruby is as well-known as that, and as identifiable, it makes me wonder what they plan to do with it. Ten royals says they have a couple potential buyers lined up.”

“Do you think this is purely about turning a profit?” Colin asked. “Is it possible it’s some kind of political statement?”

“The Carta really doesn’t do politics much - not in the way of statements, that is,” Eric replied. “I know people in both the Carta and the Coterie. The Carta is the more organized of the two. They like to have their seedy underbelly to play in, and they’re largely about profit. The Coterie is much looser, and the morality of its members tends to be of a wider range. If they were the ones doing this, it might be a statement. Since it’s the Carta, it’s about the money.”

“I guess when it comes to a ruby of this size and quality, who owns it is just a formality.” Colin shrugged. “Well, the important thing is making sure we can get Gwen out from underneath this smuggling operation. Any ideas on how to do that, exactly?”

“My gut says to get her out of the Marches - someplace where the Carta don’t have as much of a reach. They largely operate in the Marches and Ferelden, but maybe Antiva would be safe,” Eric mused. “But there’s something about all this that doesn’t add up. Who leaked it that the ruby was in Lenora’s possession? And why? What do they get out of it?”

“Perhaps, if we’re lucky, our discussion with Lady Lenora will shed some light on that,” said Colin. “It could be something as simple as a new member of the household having Carta ties or a disgruntled former guard selling the information to the highest bidder.”

“I’m _assuming_ her brother-in-law isn’t involved.” Eric chuckled slightly. “I’ve met the man. He’s many things, most of which are cuddly and fond of cheese. I think we can eliminate him as a suspect. I can’t speak for other Fereldan nobles, though. Then again, I’m not overly familiar with the political climate outside of Kirkwall.”

Colin, of course, being originally from Ferelden, was slightly more well versed in their politics. “Well, Lenora’s father is Logan mac Niall – not the most popular man in Ferelden, to put it extremely mildly,” he remarked. “Being her father’s daughter could certainly contribute to the former queen being the victim of some bad feelings from other Fereldan leaders. But it’s been years and she’s by and large out of the public life now. It would be strange to think a politician chose _now_ to strike, and in _this_ manner.”

“Didn’t it turn out that he had something to do with King Aidan’s death?”

Colin nodded. “Aidan perished in a fire that consumed the royal palace, but it’s the opinion of many in Ferelden that Logan could have potentially saved the king from his fate and abandoned him instead. Furthermore, before Alexander was king, Logan actually tried to lay the blame at the feet of Alexander and his wife. He claimed _they_ didn’t arrive in time to save the king. It was all a horrible mess.”

“Sounds like it. But then, most things are in their own way,” Eric noted.

“Indeed. The former Queen loved her father and still holds him in the highest esteem. If one of his former rivals or someone else not appreciative of her outspoken support of Logan leaked the information, I am certain Lady Lenora will want to know.”

“That’s pretty impressive, to be able to still love and revere someone who committed treason,” Eric mused. “He must have been a hell of a dad.”

“He was a complicated figure. Whatever his actions, he did, by all accounts, inspire a great deal of loyalty from many who knew and worked with him,” said Colin. “To this day his daughter still funds libraries in his name and has statues built of him. I would like to think my children will admire me even half as much when I’m gone.”

“They will. And they won’t have that whole treason thing to detract from it,” his partner assured him. “Honestly, this whole thing is just… overly complex, or something. Like someone’s bad idea for a story.”

“I think that’s an apt description for our entire lives,” Colin pointed out, chuckling in spite of himself. “Don’t worry, it will get sorted out soon enough.”

“I just still feel like there’s something we don’t know, some kind of particularly messy twist coming. I’m always in favor of plot twists when I’m reading, but I’m not a big fan of living through them.”

“Yes, most of our cases seem to have them, don’t they?” Colin mused. “Especially the strange cases. Although who knows? Maybe the biggest twist we’ll face this time around is me making it home in time for dinner,” he added with a laugh, hoping to brighten his partner’s mood a bit.

“That _would_ be a twist,” Eric agreed, relaxing somewhat. He glanced at his phone. “Okay, just got delivery confirmation. Siren’s got a supply of vanilla cookies from that bakery in Hightown, ‘The Bread Wolf.’ Stupid name, but they’ve got good pastries. That should hold her over until you get back.”

“Oh, that’s perfect, thank you.” Colin smiled. “Honestly, it might be a good thing that these cases call me away for hours on end sometimes - it keeps me from worrying and fussing. Maker, I’m probably driving my poor darling mad.” He laughed.

“Knowing you? I can absolutely believe that.” Eric was careful not to mention the fact that Evelyn occasionally texted him with that very problem, or that he had summoned Colin to assist with cases that he could easily have resolved on his own just to give the poor woman some breathing room. “It’ll be over before much longer. She’s due next month, right?”

Colin nodded. “Almost a month to the day before our first anniversary. If _I’m_ anxious, I can’t imagine how she feels.”

“I’ll admit I don’t have a lot of experience with pregnant women,” Eric noted, “but she seems to be handling it like a champion. I’m sure she’s looking forward to the end result, though.”

“‘Handling it like a champion’ is an excellent way of putting it - she most certainly is that,” Colin said, his tone full of pride. “And yes, we’re all looking forward to the end result enormously, including Nicolas. He’s very excited about becoming a brother.”

“I’ll bet.” Eric smiled fully this time; like most of the Kirkwall officers, he had a soft spot for the boy. “He’s a good kid.”

“He is. It’s hard to remember sometimes that he used to be an orphan - he’s such a part of my life now, it’s amusing to think he used to just be the boy who gave us information on cases,” Colin mused. “Sometimes I wonder how I lived for so long without Nicolas and Evelyn in my life, honestly.”

“Well, you survived a lot of crap before you came here. Consider this your just reward, I guess. Nice to think fate’s not always a bastard.”

“Agreed. I would like to think other people can get their just rewards too - like other people in this train compartment,” he commented, smiling faintly.

“I’m not holding my breath, Curly, but I appreciate the thought.” Eric looked into his coffee cup and shook his head. “I’ll settle for getting this case closed.”

“You and me both, partner.”

Their train pulled into the station within the hour and a car sent by Lenora’s people took them to the hotel where the former queen was lodging with her tiny entourage. Colin spent most of the ride looking out the window, but as they approached the hotel, he glanced over at Eric.

“Oddly enough, I’m a bit nervous to meet Lady Lenora,” he said, laughing slightly. “If she’s as much her father’s daughter as she seems to be, she’ll be quite formidable indeed.”

“Most likely. Oh well, we’re having an adventure, I suppose.”

They were shown into Lady Lenora’s suite by a footman who looked like he’d been out of high school for about three hours. The former queen sat in a high-backed chair as if it were a throne, her blue eyes piercing and bright, her expression carefully neutral as the detectives inclined their heads to her. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I appreciate you taking the time to look into this matter; ever since I left Ferelden I’ve been ill at ease about the whole thing. How can I assist?”

“Your Grace, as you’ve been made aware, the ruby in your possession has come to the Carta’s attention,” said Colin. “We have it on good authority that someone leaked the ruby’s location to them, so we were hoping you might be able to shed some light on our investigation. For a start, is there anyone you can think of who knows you have the ruby who may have passed that information to the Carta?”

Lenora looked thoughtful, gesturing for the detectives to sit. “My brother-in-law and his wife know, but I can’t imagine they have anything to gain from interacting with the Carta. Maker knows they’ve had to deal with them enough. Let me think. Ever since Ferelden turned democratic, it’s been harder to keep tabs on the noble lines and their loyalties. A few of my servants were aware, and of course the vault’s designer, and a few of my late husband’s relatives. The only one who even springs to mind slightly is the wife of one of Aidan’s uncles - an Orlesian, you know. She’s never been fond of my husband’s family.”

Colin glanced at Eric, but nevertheless wrote down the information. “We’ll certainly look into that, Your Grace. It might also be helpful to have a list of those in your employ who know about the ruby.”

“I can draw up a list for you easily enough. I do hope you find the responsible party, detectives,” she added. “I’ve made arrangements to safeguard the real ruby, and meanwhile had a decoy placed in the vault just in case.”

“An excellent precaution, Your Grace. If we can do anything else to make sure you feel safe - a guard on your residence, a police presence on your tour - please let us know.”

“Alexander sent a contingent of soldiers as my personal attaché - he’s thoughtful, if nothing else,” she allowed. “But the offer is appreciated. Can I get you something to eat before you go? Did you have other questions?”

“Just one,” said Eric. “Apart from yourself and the vault designer, who has ever been able to access the inside of the vault? Have you ever shown the mechanism to anyone?”

“I’ve never shown the mechanism to anyone else, no,” Lenora replied, her lips quirking slightly. “I suspect you have a notion of something, Detective.”

“A theory. I wonder, Your Grace, whether you’d be open to a little bit of... unorthodox sleuthing?”

The slight quirking of Lenora’s lips became a full smile. “That depends on the definition of ‘unorthodox,’ I should think. But I’m willing to negotiate.”

“I’d like to bring in a couple of consultants, with your permission, to examine the vault. Let me go over everything so you know just what I have in mind…”

* * *

An hour later, the detectives were on the train back to Kirkwall, and Eric was explaining things farther to Colin. Lady Lenora had given her full consent to his plan.

“Fairchild is a cracker. He’s got a bunch of people under him, disenfranchised sorts who turned to him when their other leads dried up. He keeps them fed and employed,” Eric said. “He’s the single greatest hacker type I know. If he can’t figure out how to break into the vault, nobody can - which means that if he can’t get in, we can see if the Carta does.”

“An excellent idea,” said Colin, nodding. “So if Fairchild can get in, it means the vault can be broken into. If not, it probably means someone gave the Carta information on how to get in. But Lady Lenora said she hasn’t shown anyone else the mechanism.”

“I know. And I believe her. I have my suspicions, but I want to check out the control variables first.” He looked a little broody. “I’ll get in touch with Fairchild. While I do that, you look into the ruby - see if it’s got any other significance to it. There might be an angle we overlooked.”

“Right.” Colin nodded. The look on Eric’s face was not lost on him, but he chose not to say anything… for now. “I’ll dig a little deeper into the gem, maybe look at its history with the Queen of Antiva. And besides, I find it a little strange that someone chose to name a ruby after something as evil as the stories say red lyrium was. Maybe there’s a reason for that.”

“You think maybe it can do something? Power a generator or something weird like that?”

“I don’t know. And frankly, I’m a little concerned to find out,” Colin replied. “Hopefully it’s just a precious stone with an overly dramatic name, but I’m starting to have my doubts.”

“I know what you mean.” Eric sighed, looking at the display on his phone. “Gwen wants an update. Any thoughts on what I should tell her?”

Colin steepled his fingers a moment in thought. At last, he spoke. “Tell her Lenora gave us a list of servants who know about the ruby and we’re checking the names,” he said. “More than that, I don’t think we should share, in case the Carta gets a hold of the information somehow.”

“Makes sense to me.” Eric tapped out a version of that wording and sent it, then directed his attention to contacting Fairchild. “So it looks like we’ll be making a trip to Ferelden,” he said. “You’d better get home and warn the missus. I’m sure we can get the captain to put someone watching her so you don’t worry too much.”

Colin’s features arranged themselves in an expression that said he wasn’t looking forward to such a thing, but he nodded. “Worry _too much_ being the key phrase. Maker knows I’ll still worry plenty being not just out of Kirkwall, but out of the Free Marches.”

“You wouldn’t be the Curly we all know and love if you didn’t. I get it. She’ll probably get Hardy to set up camp at the coffee shop across the street from your place or something,” Eric mused. “Just to have someone close by if she needs anything. Make sure Nicolas gets to school and all that.”

“Well, that would go a long way to making me a little bit more at ease, yes,” Colin conceded. “They did an exemplary job during the Red Templar case, so I have every faith in them.”

“That’s the spirit. And we’ll get this over as fast as we can so you don’t have to be away from home a second longer than necessary.”

Colin smiled. “I know, and I appreciate that fact. And on the bright side, at least it’s not too close to her due date. Once we get closer to that, there’s no force on the Maker’s earth that could get me out of the Free Marches, so I might as well give my poor wife a little peace now,” he added with a chuckle.

“There’s that.” Eric chuckled too. “All right, we’ve got a bit of a ride - if you don’t mind, I’m going to try to catch a nap.”

“Not at all. I think I’ll head to the dining car for a little coffee and get down to researching this blasted ruby a little more.”

“Okay. Wake me if you need me.” In truth, Eric didn’t want to be awake because he didn’t like the ideas that were swimming in his brain. He hoped that a little sleep might persuade them to go away.

“I’ll wake you when we get to Kirkwall, more like,” said Colin. “You look like you could use the nap. Try not to think about the case too much for the moment - we’ll figure it out eventually. We always do.”

“I’ll do my best, Curly. Can’t promise more than that.”

By the time they made it back to Kirkwall, Eric had had some semblance of a nap and Colin had found no further information about the ruby online (although he thought he might have one or two books at home that might be of use to their investigation and vowed to page through them when he got back). The first order of business, however, was to brief Captain Hendallen on what they had learned in Starkhaven.

“This is the list of servants Her Grace gave us,” said Colin as he finished his report, handing the sheet over. “She claims the only person she suspects would be the Orlesian wife of King Aidan’s uncle, but I’m not exactly convinced that’s a credible lead.”

“Could be anti-Orlesian sentiment or it could be legitimate. Check it out just to eliminate it,” the captain replied. “How soon will Fairchild be available?”

“I contacted him,” Eric replied. “We should be able to head for Ferelden by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Speaking of which, Captain - I know we have people looking after Miss Davis already, but might it be possible to spare Hardy to look after Evelyn and Nicolas while I’m gone?” Colin inquired. “I know we won’t be gone that long, but I would feel better knowing someone is there for them.”

“I figured. Hardy’s already preparing to be on standby,” she assured him. “Give Evelyn her cell number - mine too while you’re at it - and tell her to call either of us if she needs anything, but call Hardy first because she’ll be closer.”

“I will, thank you, Captain.” Colin nodded. “By the way, have you heard from Barrett on how Gwen is faring?”

Eric’s lips twitched, but he made no comment. “Barrett says she’s a bit of a handful,” said Captain Hendallen, glancing from one detective to the other, “but largely easy to get on with. Apparently she told him some interesting stories from her history with Varras.”

“Somehow, that doesn't surprise me,” said Colin quietly. In a more audible tone, he added, “I’m hoping I have some books at home that could offer new insights about the ruby. I was thinking I could try and make some headway in that before our trip to Ferelden tomorrow.”

“Knowing you and your history obsession, that sounds like a good idea,” said Eric. “Why don’t you head home? Soak up some family time before we go and pull out your books. I’ll start running down this list Lady Lenora gave us, see if anything pops.”

Colin nodded again. “Right. Don’t hesitate to call me or stop by if you need me. You’re more than welcome to join us for dinner too.”

“I… might take you up on that.” If he didn’t, Eric was half afraid he’d end up taking over Gwen’s watch, and that could lead to places he both did and did not want to go. It would be the epitome of a bad idea, which made it all the more annoying to realize that he was tempted nonetheless, sort of like deliberately eating ice cream too fast because the brain freeze is inexplicably enjoyable in its aching.

Colin seemed to understand that as he often did - without saying that he understood it. He reached out to pat his partner’s shoulder. “Nicolas has taken it upon himself to cook certain simple things so Ev rests as much as possible - I’m sure he’d be more than happy to show off his skills to a guest.”

“Well, then, how can I say no? Tell him to set a place for me and I’ll be there at six.” Eric was quietly relieved, and grateful, and determined to smother the part of him that was disappointed.

* * *

True to his word, he rang the Lyons family’s bell at five minutes to six, and brandished a package of small cakes as the door opened. “I come bearing dessert.”

Colin opened the door, looking a perfect picture of happy domesticity, clad as he was in an apron as he apparently helped Nicolas put the finishing touches on the meal. “Oh, thank you, that’s generous of you,” he said with a smile, gesturing for Eric to enter. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I’m being fed at no charge, I had to kick in something. And wine isn’t good for the kid or the almost-kid, so this seemed like a good second choice.”

“Well, you know no one in this house will complain about something sweet.” Colin chuckled. “Here, let me take your coat. Ev and Nicolas are in the dining room already.”

“So this is what they mean by that maternal glow, is it?” Eric asked a moment later by way of greeting. Evelyn chuckled at him, and he ruffled Nicolas’s hair before taking a seat. “I hear someone’s turning into quite the junior chef.”

Nicolas smiled and waved with the wooden spoon he was holding. “I’m trying,” he said with a nod. “Father sometimes works late and I want Mother to rest. They shouldn’t have to cook when I’m here, so I’m helping.”

“And he’s doing a good job of it,” Colin added as he entered the room. “He’s working on an Orlesian recipe tonight - butter soup.”

“Heard of it, never tried it,” Eric noted. “Smells good, though. How’s school treating you, kid?”

“It’s good.” Nicolas nodded again, his tone thoughtful. “Father taught me history and Mother taught me art - I can use both now. And I’m writing poems there too. Words always wind and wonder when they’re just half-forgotten dreams, but now they live on pages instead of just my mind.”

Eric chuckled. “You’ll have to send some of your stuff down to the barracks. You’ve got a fan club there, y’know. And how is the little sprout treating _you_?” He turned to Evelyn.

“Well, I know I’m getting close because my hormones are ridiculous,” she replied, half-smiling. “Yesterday I cried because I thought we were out of toilet paper. It’s the little things that get you, you know.”

“I think it’s because the baby wants to say hello, but can’t yet,” Nicolas added. “Maybe my brother or sister is confused about how to be a part of the family. But we’ll teach him or her when they arrive.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” said Colin, who had crossed over to Evelyn’s seat to wrap his arms around her midsection, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

Eric was suddenly very thankful for his excellent poker face. “Sometimes people don’t know how to be part of a family, kid,” he said. “But with you three for teachers, I’m pretty sure baby Lyons will learn fast.”

“I hope so,” Nicolas said, in the earnest tone in which he said everything. “They will have lots of other things to learn too. I’ve had a lot to learn since becoming part of a family, but it’s good.”

“It sure is.” Eric decided not to say anything else on the subject, lest his calm facade drop. “So, Curly, did you find anything today? Or should we wait until after dinner to talk shop?”

“I try not to bring work to the table,” said Colin, “so we can speak in more detail after dinner. But I’ll say this much to start - I was able to find some details about when the ruby was first discovered and mined… let’s just say it has a history that makes the name ‘Red Lyrium’ seem a bit more apt than I previously thought.”

“I’m intrigued. Well, we’ll leave it there for now. Can I set the table or something?”

“No, no, you’re our guest,” said Colin, getting to his feet to help Nicolas ladle the soup into bowls and carry it over. “Besides, you brought us dessert, you’ve already done your due diligence,” he added with a chuckle.

“Just thought I’d ask. Oh, Siren, how were the cookies?”

“Lovely. Thank you so much for that,” Evelyn said gratefully. “I’ve always had a weakness for vanilla and the baby makes it worse.”

“It seems the baby has a sweet tooth already too,” said Colin, setting a bowl of soup down in front of his wife and smiling. “And she may have already inherited my love of blueberries, by all indicators.”

“There are worse things,” Eric joked. “So did you pick out names?”

“Other than naming it after you?” Colin teased, laughing. Then he grew more serious. “If it’s a girl - which I believe it might be, for some reason - we were thinking of naming her Eleanor, after my mother,” His smile turned a touch nostalgic as he spoke.

“And if it does happen to be a boy after all,” Evelyn added, “then we’re considering Maxwell, after my maiden name.”

“He or she will have a history even when they’re just starting out,” said Nicolas, sitting down with his own bowl. “A name serving as a promise to remember the past while creating the future - a legacy, a labor of love, a letter from those who came before.”

“That’s a good way to look at it. So, Nicolas, do you have a preference?” Eric asked. “Would you rather have a brother or a sister?”

“I think I would be happy with either,” said the boy, “but I think a sister would be interesting. I hope I’m good at teaching my sibling all the things they need to know.”

“You will be,” his father assured him, his tone full of fond pride.

* * *

“All right, Curly,” said Eric after dessert was finished, “let’s get to work. Show me what you’ve found.”

“Right, take a look at this.” Colin went to his desk and fetched a book that had several pages marked. “It turns out the ruby had something of a violent history before it came to the Queen of Antiva, dating back to as early as when it was first discovered. For a start, the miners that found it worked in deplorable conditions. Several of them died during the initial excavation from things like cave-ins, accidents with the mining explosives, you name it. It was considered one of the most dangerous mines in the world. Some more superstitious sorts even claimed the place was haunted, what with how many accidents took place there as they worked.”

“Hmm… so they named it after the old legend because red lyrium was said to be such a deadly material, is that it?” Eric studied the notes thoughtfully. “Sort of opens the scope of possibilities as to who might be after the thing. The descendants of those miners might feel like it’s owed to them, or maybe some occultist thinks it has some kind of power because of all the bloodshed around its origin.”

“The bloodshed in the mine is just the _start_ ,” said Colin somewhat grimly. “It was fought over for years before passing to the Queen of Antiva. By that point things settled, but not by much. If you’re correct in what you said on the train earlier and the Carta does in fact have buyers lined up for the gem, we could be looking at quite a few people in the market for it.”

“Great. So basically we’ve got no clue at all,” said Eric grimly. “The servants Lady Lenora listed all turned up clean, no records to speak of - a couple traffic violations, nothing that suggests they might be in the market for jewel smuggling. Any idea where we should look next?”

“Other than joining Fairchild in Ferelden, I’m at a loss,” said Colin. “Maybe we should…”

Before he could get further in that statement, a quiet knocking interrupted and Nicolas poked his head inside. “Well, there’s always Therinfal Redoubt,” he said.

“There’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” said Eric. “What makes you think of that place, kid?”

“You’re looking for the ruby,” Nicolas replied, entering and handing Colin a cup of coffee (evidently the thing that had brought him there before the conversation waylaid him). “So were the Red Templars long ago. They used to talk about it back when I still lived in the alleyway.”

“Didn’t the Red Templars hit Therinfal when their reign of terror first started?” Colin added.

“I completely forgot about that,” Eric admitted. “You’re right. The Red Templars were looking for it? Did you ever hear them say why, Nicolas?”

“The ruby is just a ruby, but it’s named after something evil,” said Nicolas. “That’s because it corrupts people until they sing with darker music, until greed is all they know. That’s why the Red Templars wanted it. It used to be at Therinfal and they thought maybe it still was.”

“Yeah, that’s what the legends say about the red lyrium - it corrodes the mind and turns people into, well, something not human,” Eric mused. “But they didn’t think it was real, did they? Those guys were, or are, a lot of things but stupid isn’t one of them.”

“There’s something about it,” Nicolas said, shaking his head. “Not a real something, but something all the same.”

“Gwen did say it’s incredibly valuable,” Colin pointed out. “In the original legends, it’s a sort of magic that causes red lyrium to corrupt its victims. If there’s anything that can corrupt people that fast in the real world, it’s insatiable greed. A ruby worth that much…” He likewise shook his head.

“Yeah, I think you’re probably right.” Eric brooded on that for a moment. “Maybe we should take a run out to Therinfal if things don’t pan out in Gwaren. I just wish I could shake this feeling that there’s something else going on…”

“It can’t hurt to at least talk to them,” Colin agreed. “The gem may not be there anymore and hasn’t been for the past several years, but perhaps they have information we don’t - such as if any attempts to steal it were made during its time there. Maybe we can at least narrow down some suspects.”

“Good point. You briefed Siren on our trip, meanwhile? She knows to call Hardy if she needs anything?”

Colin nodded. “I told Hardy she can call me if anything comes up, and I told Evelyn she can call me directly as well.” He glanced over at Nicolas. “I know your mother doesn’t like to bother me at work, but it’s not a bother. Make sure she calls if she needs to, for any reason at all. All right?”

“I will. She knows you have to go and she knows it’s work, but she wants you to try to enjoy it anyway. You haven’t been to Ferelden in a long time,” Nicolas added. “Maybe you can see my aunts and uncle while you’re there.”

Colin chuckled. “I won’t get my hopes up, but it would be nice. Once we’ve put this case behind us and your brother or sister is born, we’ll all get together, you have my word.”

“Good.” Nicolas nodded. “Mother wants to meet them, and she says they want to meet me. Family is… new. But it’s good.”

“It is. Very good,” Colin agreed. “And they’re going to adore you both. Or, rather, all three of you.” He smiled, a little wistfully. Colin did not regret leaving Ferelden, but he missed his siblings more than words could express, and that was obvious to anyone who knew him. Eric understood this, and envied it a little; his only brother had been, on his best days, not completely unbearable.

“Yeah, you should throw some kind of shindig when the baby comes and get them all to come here,” he said. “They probably miss you as much as you miss them.”

“We speak on the phone as often as we can, but it just isn’t the same,” Colin said. “A little get-together sounds like it would be perfect. Maybe we can rent out the basement of the Chantry like we did for the Wintersend party, invite our friends from work. I’ll have to see what everyone thinks, of course, but I like where this is going.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me. Besides, after everything you all went through to become a family in the first place, I’d say you earned a party.”

“You may be right,” the younger detective said with a slight laugh. “With what we’ve all endured over the past several months, I’d say we all do.”

“That too. All right, so what now?”

“Now, I suppose, we finish looking into what my books say on this blasted ruby and then get some sleep. I have a feeling we’ll need it for what’s to come.”

“That,” said Eric, “sounded positively prophetic. Let’s hit the books.”


	12. The Ruby Operation, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detectives head to Ferelden to meet with Fairchild in the hopes of getting some answers.

 

Early the next morning, Colin was kissing Evelyn goodbye, ruffling Nicolas’s hair, and (once he was certain that Hardy was in place to keep an eye on everything) making his way to meet Eric for their trip to the airport. The flight to Ferelden wasn’t terribly long, but the younger detective nevertheless squirmed at the tight feeling such close quarters always gave him and when the wheels finally touched down on his native soil, he was only too eager to disembark. It had been nearly two years since Colin had been in the country and it felt strange to be back - an odd mixture of bad memories and good, of anxiety and nostalgia. But they weren’t here for him to get lost in memories; they were here because they had a job to do.

They were travelling light, so it wasn’t difficult to escape the confines of the plane and make their way through the airport terminal in Denerim where Colin could finally breathe again.

“So this Fairchild,” he said to Eric as they walked, “when are we due to meet him? And where?” 

“There’s a shop in the city called the Wonders of Thedas,” Eric replied. “He’s going to wait for us there. He tries to keep his profile as low as possible, so I’m supposed to go to the counter and say I’m looking for something called the Archivist’s Sash, and that’ll tip off his contact that I’m the guy he’s waiting to see.”

Colin sighed. “Why can’t anything be straightforward?” he said, even as he checked his phone for approximately the sixth time since they had landed. “The sooner we get this sorted out, the better. For all of us.” 

“Curly, for the love of the Maker, put your phone away.” Eric chuckled. “The poor woman is probably taking a nap and she’ll text you when she wakes up. She’s fine.”

“Yes, but what if- no, you’re right, everything’s fine,” he said, forcing himself to slip the phone back in his pocket and deliberately steeling himself to focus on the task at hand. “Is there anything you need before we make our way into Denerim or are you ready to go?” 

“I’m good, thanks. You need coffee or something?”

“I think I’m a little too jumpy at the moment. I’ll consider getting a cup when we’re finished, in honor of a job well done, hopefully.” 

“Fair enough.”

They caught a cab and headed into the ancient Denerim market district. In Ages past it had been a collection of huts arranged in the mud, or so the legends claimed. In the here and now, the roads were paved and modern fixtures were arranged throughout the landscape, but it still retained much of its rustic charm. How much charm it had was entirely a subjective thing, but it didn’t have nearly as much mud as the historic biopics would suggest, so Eric wasn’t complaining. Loudly.

The Wonders of Thedas shop was situated behind the Gnawed Noble Tavern, a watering hole which doubled as a national historic landmark. It was rumored that a number of royal bastards had been sired in that building, then left on the doorstep of the Chantry across the square as soon as decently possible once they screamed their way into the world. Whether there was truth to that was unknown, but it had definitely housed generations of nobles when they would come to Denerim for Landsmeets to declare new rulers, including the one who had changed his title from King to President. So it had that going for it, apparently. The shop behind it was small, unassuming, and filled with assorted junk for the eccentric collector. Eric led the way to the counter. “Hi. I wanted to ask about the Archivist’s Sash, is it available?”

The girl manning the counter looked up from the book she was reading and understanding flickered in her eyes. “Of course, messere, it’s in the back. Allow me to fetch it for you. If you’ll wait a moment.” Without waiting for a response, she disappeared into the depths of the shop. 

A moment later, Fairchild appeared. He was a tall man, barrel chested, with piercing eyes and a solemn, intelligent face, like a newscaster with a few decades of experience under his belt. “Varras,” he said warmly, extending a hand to shake. “It’s been a long time.”

“That it has. Good to see you - this is my partner, Colin Lyons. Curly, meet Fairchild, he’s the best in the business at what he does.”

“A pleasure,” said Colin, shaking hands with the other man. “Eric speaks very highly about you, thank you for agreeing to take the time to help us. I trust he explained everything to you?” 

“Only the bare minimum. I wanted to wait until I saw you in person to get the rest of the details,” Fairchild replied. “You never know when the walls have ears - I’m sure I sound like a conspiracy nut, but I’ve had too many close calls with bugged electronics and the like. Better to be safe than sorry, especially when helping the police.”

“No, not at all, that’s completely understandable. Given the nature of this case, that’s an entirely sensible attitude to have. I promise we won’t involve you more than necessary - I know you value your privacy and the privacy of those who work with you.” 

“Under the circumstances, I think the best place for us to speak is in the Chantry,” said Fairchild with a nod. “We can use the vestibule - I’ve already spoken to a Revered Mother and made the arrangements. Might need to make a bit of a donation, but we should be able to guarantee ourselves some privacy that way.”

“Of course. I can light a candle or two while we’re there,” Colin remarked. “Lead the way.” 

They left the shop and crossed the busy market square to the Chantry, which was the only building besides the Gnawed Noble Tavern which looked like it hadn’t changed even slightly in the last five hundred years or so. Eric half expected it to not even have electric lighting. Fairchild spoke briefly with the young Revered Mother at the door, who nodded and gestured for them to follow. She brought them to a well-lit carpeted vestibule where there was absolutely no chance of anybody eavesdropping, and left them to their own devices.

“Right. So here’s the thing,” said Eric, keeping his voice low anyway. He outlined the situation, stressing the need to verify or eliminate the possibility of the Carta being able to break into the vault. “And it’s all on the up and up. Lady Lenora gave her full permission for us to do this,” he added. “She already contacted whoever’s overseeing her estate while she’s away and told them to let us in to do whatever we need to do. So assuming that the one in charge isn’t in on this and doesn’t try to take us out, we’re good.”

“That’s a cheerful thought,” said Colin sarcastically.

Fairchild merely chuckled. “Seems simple enough. If the vault can be accessed, I’ll access it, you know that.” 

“Exactly. And if you can’t get into it, then we have reason to believe that somebody told the Carta how to do it. Of course, if you _can_ get into it, we’re back to square one.”

“Yes, but at least if we’re back to square one, we’ll know we just have to keep working to find a lead,” said Colin, “instead of knowing there’s something more… nefarious at play. Out of the two outcomes, being able to access the vault is probably the better of the two.” 

“I know. Also we need to get Curly home before curfew,” Eric added in a mock-aside to Fairchild.

Colin shot Eric a look, but did nothing to deny it; if anything, he couldn’t help but look slightly amused. Fairchild grinned. “I quite understand. Don’t worry, I’ll work quickly and do everything in my power to make sure you’ll be back to the Free Marches in a timely manner,” he vowed. 

“Great. So what’s the fastest way to get to Gwaren from here? Train? Bus? Dragon back?”

“Probably the dragon, but sadly those are in short supply around here, last I checked - even the Wonders of Thedas doesn’t have one of those stashed away. I’ve taken the liberty of booking us passage on the train instead, it’s not a terribly long trip.” 

“All right. I brought a deck of cards,” said Eric. “We just can’t let Curly bet his clothes.”

Colin groaned. “I’ll never live that down, will I?” 

“Probably not. But if it’s any consolation, your wife thinks it was adorable.”

“Well, that’s the most important thing. But I agree, let’s not have a repeat. I still never got my tie back after that incident.” 

“I may know something about that.” Eric chuckled. “Lead the way to the train station, Fairchild.”

Fairchild looked amused in the extreme. “I’ll have to try and get this story out of you,” he said, laughing as he gestured for them to follow. “It should make for a very entertaining way to pass the time.” 

“I could tell an exaggerated version if you want.”

* * *

About three hours later they were at the estate of the former Queen of Ferelden, and Fairchild was studying the complicated vault Gwen had constructed. “Solid work,” he remarked. “Whoever built this knew what they were doing. Let me see what I can make of it, but no rank amateur is going to break into this with ease, I can say that already.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Carta hired professionals of their own,” Colin remarked, glancing at the mechanism as well. “But this does look like it wouldn’t be for the faint of heart. Should we give you some space to work?” 

“If you would, please.” Fairchild nodded. “Just on the other side of the room is sufficient, if you’d rather stay close. Actually, that might be to _my_ benefit in case anybody tries to get in here,” he added thoughtfully.

“Of course. We’ll be discreet, but at the ready,” Colin promised, already moving to back away. “Let us know if you need anything from us.” 

With a nod, the cracker set to work. Eric settled into an armchair in the far corner of the room, pulling out his phone and making some notes. “You can check in with Siren a while,” he told Colin, not unkindly. “You’ve been pretty good for the last few hours, so I’ll allow it.”

“Really? Thank the Maker.” The younger detective couldn’t help but laugh, his phone already in his hand. “I won’t be long, just long enough to see how things are going.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Tell her I said I’ll bring you back as soon as I can.” His partner chuckled.

Likewise chuckling, Colin moved off to make the phone call in a bit of privacy. “Hello, my darling,” he said warmly when Evelyn answered. “Just checking in. How are you? How is everything there?” 

“Hi, honey,” came the tired reply. “Everything’s just fine. Nicolas got home from school a little while ago and made me some tea, and Hardy brought me lunch. How are things where you are, how’s the case?”

“Moving along. We’re in Gwaren with Eric’s safecracker, he’s working on the vault as we speak. Hopefully it will all be wrapped up fairly soon - incidentally, Eric wanted me to let you know he’ll have me back to Kirkwall as soon as he can.” 

“Ah, I appreciate that.” She chuckled. “Did you eat?”

“I had a little something on the train, just enough to take my heart medication,” he promised. “I’ll have something more substantial when we’re done here.” 

“Good. And make sure Eric does too,” she added. “He doesn’t take good care of himself, but it’s sweet that he tries to take care of you.”

“Yes, that’s my partner.” He chuckled slightly. “We’re both terrible at taking care of ourselves, so we take care of each other. Speaking of taking care, you sound tired, my love. I hope the baby is letting you get some rest. And that I am, for that matter. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, not at all. It’s good to hear your voice,” she assured him. “I just have a little bit of a headache, that’s all. It’s normal enough at this point, and the tea Nicolas made me is helping.”

“Oh, good. Good, I’m glad.” The love in his tone was obvious. “If I was there, I would massage your temples. I wish I could.”

“My memory is a little fuzzy, my love, but if it serves correctly that had something to do with how I ended up in this situation in the first place,” she retorted affectionately. “Ah well, it’s nearly over and it’ll be worth it.”

“That it will, my darling, that it will. I can hardly wait.”

“ _You_ can hardly wait? _I’m_ excited by the possibility of seeing my feet again!”

Colin couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I imagine so. But you do look adorable, I hope you know that.” His tone was playful. 

“It’s a minor consolation. I’m much more soothed by the idea that my baby is going to look like you.” It was clear she was smiling.

“Only if it also inherits your eyes, darling. Then I would be fine with it. Especially if it’s a girl - then both of my girls will have the most beautiful eyes in the world.”

“I hope it is a girl, just because you would be so thrilled. And I think Nicolas will be amazing with the baby no matter what.”

“I couldn’t agree more. He’s come so far and I’m so proud of him.”

“A lot of that is your influence, you know,” Evelyn pointed out. “Oh, but I shouldn’t keep you. Hurry and finish your work in Gwaren so you can come home, all right? And I’ll go finish my tea before it goes cold.”

“Both of those are good ideas. I miss you and Nicolas very much and I can’t wait to be back. I love you.”

“I love you too. Be safe.”

Eric glanced up as Colin returned. “Everything okay?”

“Very much so, she’s being well looked after.” He smiled. “I know it hasn’t been terribly long, but any progress?” He nodded in Fairchild’s direction. 

“I think he’s almost done. Hard to say for sure, but there have been some frustrated sorts of noises coming from that direction.”

“Oh, that’s not a terribly good sign, is it?” Colin’s brow furrowed a little. “Perhaps he’s just concentrating?” His tone suggested he didn’t entirely believe it even as he said it. 

“What’s the word, Fairchild?” Eric finally asked after a few minutes.

“Damned thing. I’ve tried every trick I know and this is almost impenetrable,” came the reply. Fairchild sounded equal parts irritated and impressed. “Whoever designed this knew what they were doing, that’s for sure. I almost want to ask for their name so I can make a job offer.”

“Let’s see how the rest of this investigation goes before you start creating employment opportunities,” said Colin. “Well, at least we know now that it can’t be broken into by any type of regular means. That should eliminate a few variables, to use my partner’s words.” He glanced at Eric. 

“Exactly.” Eric nodded. “We appreciate the help, Fairchild. Let’s get you back home and contact the captain, see what she thinks we ought to do next.”

“I think that sounds like as good a plan as any.” The younger detective likewise nodded. “If we’re lucky, we can give a good report to Lady Lenora and the Captain will say we can come home. If not… well…” He shrugged slightly. 

“If not, you’re going to worry yourself to death because you’ll be away from Siren for so long.” Eric shook his head, and glanced at Fairchild. “Panicky expectant dad, here. Well, let’s go get the train back to Denerim in the meantime.”

They made a few goodbyes to the estate’s primary caretakers and headed for the train station. “We should probably get some dinner on the way,” Eric mused, glancing at his watch. “Especially you, Curly.”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “Evelyn already asked me if I’d eaten, so I really probably should, if only to keep my promise before it gets too much later.” 

“I always said your missus was a smart lady. I think there’s a deli in the station,” Eric continued. “I’ll get the tickets, you take Fairchild and pick out some sandwiches and drinks for the three of us.”

Colin saluted, chuckling again. When the party made it back to the station, they each split up to accomplish these separate tasks, and soon had refreshments in hand and tickets acquired. They settled into seats on the train and, between mouthfuls of dinner and hands of cards, Eric texted Captain Hendallen with an update. 

He also texted Hardy. _Your babysitting charge giving you any trouble?_

_I wouldn’t call it trouble exactly,_ Hardy replied. _She’s an interesting lady, I’ll say that much. How go things there?_

Eric snorted. _Interesting is a good word for her, and also for this whole thing. We’ve made a little progress and have some intel to discuss with the captain when we get back. Might be a bit on the late side, though, so can you have somebody buzz the Lyons place and check on Ev and Nicolas?_

_Of course. Barrett is on the beat, so I can even have him swing by and see how things are going in person. We’ve been making sure Nicolas gets to school, keeping everything running smoothly in the meantime._

_Thanks for that. Tell Barrett to take a pizza over with him and leave the receipt on my desk, I’ll see he gets paid back._

_You got it, Detective. Knowing Barrett, he’ll probably insist he doesn’t need to be paid back, but I’ll pass it along. Good hunting - or, I guess, hopefully not good hunting, since that’ll mean you’ve solved it._

_Thanks. Don’t wait up_ , he added jokingly. “Curly, Barrett is going to take Nicolas and Siren a pizza so they’re not waiting on you with supper.”

“Oh, good, I appreciate that,” said Colin with a smile. “It saves either of them from having to cook and hopefully they can just relax and spend some quality time together.” 

“How much longer until she’s due?” Fairchild inquired.

“Just under a month now. When I called her earlier, she was just saying how much she’s looking forward to being able to see her feet again.” Colin chuckled. “It’s hard to believe there’s only a few more weeks to go, and yet the idea of even that many more weeks seems hard to bear. And I’m not even the one going through it.” 

“Women are the ones who bear the children because they’re stronger than we are,” said Fairchild. “That’s what my mother always said, anyway. Do you know what you’re having?”

“A baby,” Eric replied.

Colin couldn’t help but laugh. “Kirkwall’s finest detective indeed,” he joked. “To answer your question, though, we don’t know - we decided to keep it a surprise. But I’ll admit I’m hoping for a girl. Then the Maker will have blessed me with both a son and a daughter and I’ll consider myself a very lucky man. That is, luckier than I already am, which is very lucky indeed.” 

Fairchild glanced at Eric, and smiled almost incredulously. “Yeah, sounds like you are. How old is your boy?”

“About seventeen. I say ‘about’ because we don’t actually know the precise date he was born - he’s our adopted son, an orphan before he came to us, and he’d been on the streets for so long that his birthday never really was important to him. But we were able to get an approximate idea.” 

“Oh, wow. Well, it’s great that he has a home now.” Fairchild glanced at Eric again, and the older detective sighed dramatically.

“All right, I get it. You want the story. Far be it from me to deny you.” He took a long drink from his cup before settling back into his seat. “First, I have to set the scene…”

* * *

It was a pleasant enough way to pass the time, and Eric was sort of tired of cards anyway. By the time they reached Denerim, Fairchild understood the origins of Colin’s unique little family unit. “That’s quite the story,” he said finally.

“And I can attest that only a small fraction of it was exaggerated,” Colin assured him. “It really does all sound somewhat extraordinary when one hears it told aloud like that. But it all worked out in the end, as you can probably guess.” 

“Once I retire,” Eric said, “I’m going to settle in and write a couple of crime novels based on my career. Curly here is going to be the lovable wide-eyed recruit who gets paired with the world-weary cynic.”

“Oh, so they’re going to be true stories then?” said Colin with a laugh. “That’s a joke. I mean, not entirely, but I would argue you weren’t _that_ world-weary. And my eyes were only somewhat wide.” 

“True. They got wider when Siren walked into our lives, but otherwise they’re usually normal-sized,” Eric joked. “And of course they’ll be true stories, just with souped-up details and names changed to protect the innocent.”

“I think they’ll be bestsellers, I really mean that. Although I could be just slightly biased.” Colin laughed again. 

“So tell me,” said Fairchild, “if you were writing this case as a story, how would you have it end?” 

“Ideally?” Eric spread his hands. “The whole thing works out for the best and we all go home rich. But that’ll never happen.”

“Maybe not the last part, but hopefully the first part,” said Colin. “And who knows? As we both enjoy noting from time to time, stranger things have happened when it comes to our line of work and our city.” 

“You’re not wrong. And I guess it doesn’t hurt to think positive, at least once in a while.”

“Also as I’ve noted from time to time, that’s why Captain Hendallen assigned us to one another. Speaking of which, have you heard anything back from her? Do we have any marching orders yet?” 

“Nothing yet, just an acknowledgement of the text,” Eric reported. “Maybe she doesn’t have any info for us currently. Or maybe the signal’s not strong and the phone hasn’t caught up with itself yet.”

“That’s a good point. Well, in the short term, I suppose we’ll take no news as good news.” He shrugged lightly. 

“It’s usually a wise plan.” Eric glanced out of the window. “Looks like we’re getting close, and it’s getting dark. Maybe we’d better plan on getting a hotel room, Curly, I’m not sure Thedas Air runs red-eyes to Kirkwall.”

Colin did his best to not look too visibly disappointed. “Yes, you’re probably right,” he said with barely concealed glumness. “At this point, even if we could get a flight, we’d be getting home so late that Ev and Nicolas would be asleep anyway, so that’s probably for the best.” 

“At least we know Hardy and Barrett will keep an eye on things for us. And we know they had supper.”

“Yes. I know they’re in good hands.” Colin managed a smile. “All in all, I can’t complain.” 

“We’ll get settled and you can call and explain. Have a nice long talk about things that aren’t work,” Eric told him. “I’ll call the captain and get her up to speed. Fairchild, can you recommend a place that’s not too expensive and offers decent coffee?”

“Certainly. In fact, there’s a place not far away from the shop and close to the airport, so you two can get a jump on things in the morning and the panicky expectant father doesn’t have to be away from the family a second longer than necessary.” He smiled. 

“Perfect. Let us buy you dinner, since we dragged you all the way to Gwaren for basically nothing, and you can send the department the bill for your services.”


	13. The Ruby Operation, Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ruby operation comes to a head, with surprising results for the two detectives. Meanwhile, Eric says goodbye to the old and Colin says hello to the new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last part of The Ruby Operation. The next and final noir story is going to be a slightly edited version of "In Search of Certainty" which you may remember from chapters 4 and 5 of The Memory Band. After that, well, let's just say we have plenty more adventures at Skyhold Academy to bring you, don't you worry. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading our noirs and we hope you've been enjoying them so far!

 

 

A couple hours later, the detectives were ensconced in a fairly nice two-bed hotel room with its own coffee bar. Eric called Captain Hendallen to relay the details, then looked out of the window thoughtfully. “Neither of us came prepared for an overnight,” he said. “Let’s get over to the airport as early as we can - if only so we can get home to shower and change clothes. But I’m not skipping out on the free breakfast, of course.”

“Oh, of course - especially if there’s anything sweet there. But yes, the earlier the better. Speaking of which, I should call home and report in.” 

“You do that. I’m going to wash up a touch and then get some sleep.” Eric often joked that he could sleep through anything if circumstances required it, and not fifteen minutes later he was sprawled across one of the beds, out like a light.

Colin couldn’t help but chuckle, sitting at the edge of his own bed in order to make the phone call. As he waited for Evelyn or Nicolas to pick up, he found himself idly flipping through the channels if only to occupy his hands. He knew Eric wouldn’t be bothered by the sound. 

“Hello, Father,” said Nicolas, sounding a bit sleepy as he answered. “Please tell Eric thank you for sending the pizza, it was good.”

“Hello, my boy, I’m glad to hear that. I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I? It’s a bit later than I realized.” 

“It’s all right. I waited - I knew you would call if you didn’t come home before we went to bed,” his son replied. “Mother is resting, should I wake her?”

“No, that’s all right. I would love to talk to her, of course, but it’s important that she rests. Besides, that just means I get to talk to you longer.” His tone was bright. “How are you, my boy? How was school?” 

“We might be getting a class pet,” Nicolas reported. “A hamster, or maybe a nug. I hope it’s a nug. Friendly, fearless, funny little friends.” As he continued to tell Colin about his day, however, the television was suddenly alive with a breaking news bulletin.

“Gwaren police are baffled by an attempted robbery at the home of Former-Queen Lenora, where sources say the estate staff found her personal safe opened. Police are baffled as to how the crime was committed,” said the reporter onscreen. “Details at 11.”

Colin, who had been listening to Nicolas’s story with a smile, now found himself occupied with a different story. As he stared at the television in dumbfounded shock, stunned into silence, he nearly dropped the phone. _The safe? Lenora’s safe? They got in? What’s going on?_

“Are you coming home tonight, Father?” Nicolas’s voice broke through his reverie.

It took Colin a moment to realize his son had spoken. “What? Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, my boy, I -” He glanced back at the television. “No, unfortunately not. I was hoping to be home tomorrow morning, but… that might not be possible, I’m afraid. I’ll call when I can, though, I promise. Would you pass that along to your mother for me when she’s awake?” 

“I’ll tell her. She’ll understand - she would worry if you traveled at night. Now she won’t be as worried,” came the reply. “And your friends are taking care of us, so you don’t have to worry either. Just be careful.”

“I will. And I’ll... do my best not to worry. Hopefully we’ll be finished here sooner rather than later and I’ll be home before any of us know it.” But he found himself doubting the words even as he said them. 

“Good. I will tell Mother not to worry too. You should sleep, Father, she’ll feel better if she thinks you got a good night’s sleep.”

“I’ll… certainly try for her sake. And you should get a good night’s sleep too. But it’s been wonderful talking to you, my boy, thank you.” 

“I’m glad you called. We’ll see you as soon as we can.”

With the call ended, Colin was free to turn on the news and wait for the program to begin at 11. “Our top story tonight,” said the anchor, “mysterious burglary at Queen Lenora’s estate in Gwaren. The former monarch turned ambassador is abroad on a goodwill tour on behalf of the president, and in her absence, unseen infiltrators broke into her personal vault and stole a prized ruby. Staff members at the estate confirm that no one was injured, and that less than two hours before the robbery took place, officers were on the scene in hopes of preventing this very event. It’s believed that the perpetrators waited until the officers, who are from the Free Marches, left the premises before enacting their daring plot to steal the jewel. Because of the nature of the crime, authorities believe this to have been the work of the Carta.”

“Blast,” Colin muttered, shaking his head. “‘Daring plot’... we were _right there_ , so close. Blast it all.” 

The fact that the Carta, the very group Gwen was worried about, had managed to break into a vault that even the best safecracker in the business couldn’t breach seemed to mean only one thing - they had been given a way in. And given that only two people knew how to access that safe… he didn’t relish having to wake Eric to give him this new information. 

It took a few minutes. “Mm. What. Curly?”

“Sorry to wake you, Eric, but I really think you should see this,” he said, gesturing with his head in the direction of the television set. “It seems we weren’t the only people interested in getting into Lady Lenora’s vault today.” 

“Huh?” Eric forced himself to sit up, rubbing his eyes, and stared at the screen. After a moment, he swore silently. “Guess we’d better call the captain.”

“I’m on it,” Colin replied, already in the process of dialing. “At least the only thing that was there was the fake ruby. But all the same, it looks like we won’t be getting home as early tomorrow as we were hoping, does it?” 

“Doesn’t look like we’ll be getting too much sleep, either.” Eric sighed. “If the Carta got into that vault, you know what that means, right?”

“I’m afraid so.” The younger detective winced. “But the real question is why? Why leak that information? Unless… unless it wasn’t intentional?” 

“And the other question is, to whom was it leaked, and _by_ whom?” Not that Eric had a lot of doubts about who had done the leaking - there weren’t many possible suspects, after all. He just didn’t want to believe it.

“They’re all good questions. Unfortunately, they’re not questions that are easy to answer, I suspect. Then again, when are they ever?” He paused then as Hendallen picked up the phone. “Captain, I know it’s late, but we have a situation here…” 

“I saw the news,” she replied, annoyed - though, as he quickly realized, it was with the situation and not with him. “Just what we needed. You two sit tight in the hotel and try to sleep for a few hours. As soon as business hours hit, I want you heading over to Therinfal to see what you can learn. Find out anything you can about the ruby’s history, who cut the stone, how the Queen of Antiva came to have it in the first place - anything that might give us a clue as to what these yahoos want with it. They’ve got the fake, we need to know the details on the real one, and since the real ruby used to be housed at Therinfal, it seems as good a place to start as any.”

“Yes, ma’am. Do we know if the real ruby is still there? Lenora said she had ‘safeguards’ in place - I imagine this decoy the Carta took is one of them - but she didn’t mention anything concrete.” 

“Not sure. Have Varras nag the girlfriend until she gives you some intel. But first, sleep, I don’t want either of you trying to function on 36 hours and six cups of coffee.”

“That’s… probably exactly what would happen otherwise, yes,” he admitted. “All right, Captain, understood. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” 

“I know that. Keep me posted… I’ve got to get some sleep too. Good night.” She hung up.

Colin did likewise, sighing as he did so, and relayed the information to Eric. “...so we’re to go to the bank in the morning and see what we can find. And the captain thinks it might be wise to, uh, have Gwen give us any further intel she might have.” 

“Right, that’s… not going to be trouble or anything.” Eric rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know how much sleeping I’ll be able to do now, but if the boss ordered it, I guess I have to try.”

“I can do it, if you prefer. I just don’t know how forthcoming she’ll be…” 

“No, I’d better do it. Assuming she trusts me, anyway. I’ll talk to her as soon as we get back to Kirkwall - I need to do it in person, so I can tell if she’s lying.” Eric sighed. “Just what we needed.”

“Who knows, maybe it won’t even be necessary - maybe we’ll get all the information we need when we go to Therinfal tomorrow,” Colin said in what he hoped would be a helpful tone of voice. “For now, let’s see if we can get any rest at all. As the captain pointed out, we’re not going to do well running on just coffee.” 

“All right. I’ll try… maybe it’ll turn out I was just having a nightmare,” Eric offered half-heartedly, reclaiming his earlier position. “G’night, Curly.”

“Good night, Eric.” 

Colin turned out the lights then and claimed the other bed, feeling out of sorts to be sleeping without Evelyn at his side. He had already been ill at ease about the whole trip - the whole case, in fact - and now he felt it all the more acutely. He only hoped their sojourn to Therinfal would make all things clear.

* * *

Morning came far earlier than either detective would have liked, but after grabbing a little breakfast, they were on their way to the bank of Therinfal Redoubt. It was a large, imposing structure that not only looked ancient, but nigh impenetrable.

“Hard to believe Barrett used to work here,” Colin remarked as they passed a group of grim-faced guards. “Hopefully he finds the barracks an improvement.” 

“I think anybody with sense would find it an improvement,” Eric muttered.

“Eric.”

The voice was so soft that he almost thought his ears were playing tricks on him, like when the sweet song of the ice cream truck turns out to be somebody’s rusty wind chime. He halted mid-stride, catching Colin by surprise, and slowly turned his head in the direction of the sound. She was hooded again, and melted so well into the shadows that he wondered if anyone else could even see her.

“Gwen. What are you doing here?”

“Slipped my leash when I found out you were coming here. I think I might know what’s going on.”

Colin turned to follow the sound, a perplexed look on his face. “Miss Davis, it was very dangerous for you to come all this way by yourself,” he said quietly, looking around to make sure they weren’t being watched. “What were you thinking? What information could you possibly have that you would risk this?” His tone wasn’t angry, merely concerned. 

“It’s not just information, detectives.” Her voice was lower than usual. “It’s the actual ruby.”

Colin’s eyes widened as he glanced at Eric then back at Gwen. “Is there some place we can discuss this without being overheard or discovered?” he demanded. 

“Hard to be in a safer place than this. But we can go into my personal vault,” she said. “Soundproof, waterproof, x-ray proof… you name it, I proofed it.”

“Fine. Lead the way, and when we get there, I hope there’s a good explanation for all of this.” 

Gwen spoke to a clerk, who guided them down to the lowest level of the bank, where the vaults were so large that they had to routinely send security through to shout and make sure no one was trapped inside one of them. Gwen led the detectives to one in the farthest back corner, where a suspiciously familiar-looking door loomed like a monster from a childhood nightmare brought on by eating too many orange creamsicles after dinner. She hummed a little bit as she worked the lock. “Tada.”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess,” said Colin. “The same type of lock used in Lady Lenora’s vault?” 

“Of course. I built mine first, as a prototype,” she explained. “Come on in.”

With a strange sort of caution he could describe - and admittedly feeling just a little impressed by the sheer complexity of the vault - the younger of the two detectives stepped inside. Looking around, he found a place where he could stand and not be entirely in the way, waiting as Gwen and Eric took up position nearby.

“All right, Gwen, tell us everything you know,” he said, his notebook in hand. “How do you have the ruby?” 

“Lenora gave it to me,” she replied. “She told you she put it someplace else for safekeeping, didn’t she? I’m that someplace else.” But Eric could see that there was still something she wasn’t saying. 

It made enough sense, but Colin was thinking something identical to Eric and exchanged a glance with his partner. “What about the vault in Gwaren then? The Carta got into it last night - the only thing they netted was the decoy ruby and no one was hurt, so all in all it could have been a lot worse. But I’m interested in how they managed it in the first place, seeing as the best safecracker in Southern Thedas couldn’t do such a thing.” 

“Well, that’s what has me worried,” she admitted. “I think someone may have leaked information to the Carta, told them how to get inside.”

“And who might that someone be? Because we were told by Lady Lenora that only she and the vault’s designer know how it works.” 

“Gwen.” The reproof was there in Eric’s tone, like a disappointed lunch monitor who just caught someone drawing on their tray with ketchup. “Andraste’s ass, _you’re_ the leak? It really was you?”

There was a tiny glimmer of regret in Gwen’s eyes, but it was easy to miss. “You don’t understand, Eric. There’s something about this ruby. It’s well-named - you would not believe how many people are after it. That’s why Lenora had me build the vault for it, that’s why she trusted me to look after it.” She chanced a rueful smile. “I should have known you’d figure it out. You really are as good as they say.” 

“That doesn’t answer the obvious question, though,” he said. “When did you leak it? And _why_? And for the love of caffeine, to _whom_?”

“It was around the time Lenora started planning this trip. She consulted with me about whether we needed added security for while she was gone. You know what I can do, you’ve seen it firsthand in Gwaren - I knew my vault was secure. But you also know I can’t help but be curious. I wanted to know what we were up against and figure out why the ruby was being targeted. So I… consulted with an expert.” 

“An expert.” Eric groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What expert did you consult who then turned around and ratted you out to the Carta?”

“I didn’t know his history at the time. I knew he was a reformed criminal lending out his expertise, but I didn’t know exactly who he was…” She fiddled with her sleeves for a moment to avoid looking at either detective. “His name is Maddox.”

What followed was the very distinct sound of Colin dropping his notebook. 

“Maddox?” Eric repeated. “Tall, kinda thin and wiry, hair like a gerbil?” When she nodded, he groaned again. “When did _he_ get out of prison? We sent him up the river over a year ago!”

“I guess he has some friends in high places - he told me someone bailed him out of prison to protect him, from what I don’t know. But he’s a consultant now, he works to help businesses bolster their security using his experience. I thought if anyone might know what’s going on, he would.” 

“Consultant my right foot! He’s a _criminal_!” Eric snapped. “We locked him up for bank heists and threatening to kill Curly and his wife!” He looked at Colin. “Remember what the captain said about former military in Kirkwall? Why do I suspect that Maddox’s friends in high places are connected to her theory about that?”

“Yes, I suspect the same thing,” Colin finally managed. He looked pale and shaky, fear and anger warring for dominance over his facial expression. “And I have some ideas about it. Ideas that we will be putting to the test… after I calm down, otherwise I might do something I regret.”

"That was the part I didn't know," Gwen admitted. "I had no idea he was with the Red Templars. And I didn't know about the part regarding what happened to you and your wife, Detective Lyons."

“I’d better call Hardy and tell her to beef up security on the family,” said Eric. “She can send Barrett to get Nicolas from school. Maybe they’re not targeting Siren anymore but we can’t take chances. You okay, Curly? You don’t look too good.”

"Fine. Just fine. I'm just… thinking about the last time. About how I promised it would never happen again and yet here we are. And my son and my pregnant wife are in Kirkwall without me. And Maddox is free."

“Don’t think like that, Curly. This isn’t your fault.” Eric was angry, in a way that he didn’t often get angry - quietly, under the surface. He didn’t have a family of his own; Curly and Siren and the kids filled that gap for him. He stepped away from the other two in order to have a few tense words with Hardy on the phone.

“All right,” he said, coming back. “They’re doubling the watch on your place, Curly, and getting Nicolas from school. Hardy’s going to ask the captain if we should move your family to a safehouse.”

Colin sighed. "Thank you," he said, but the words were a grumble. "I can't believe I'm here and not there, but I trust Hardy and the force. They protected her once before, they can do it again."

“Captain Hendallen’s the best of the best. She’ll take care of everything.” Eric turned to Gwen. “You had to know we’d figure this out sooner or later. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought maybe I could make it right in the meantime. And I did - _I_ have the ruby, not the Carta. Not Maddox. It’s as right as I could make it.” 

“This isn’t one of your machines!” he snapped. “You can’t just replace a part and make everything right!”

“No, but I can try, can’t I?” she returned in a similar tone. “Or am I supposed to wallow in my mistakes forever, kicking myself, telling stories about what I should have done over coffee in the office with the boys?” She waved in Colin’s direction. 

“Ha!” Eric snorted. “As if I would tell stories about my _own_ mistakes!”

“All right, enough!” Colin growled, holding up his hand. “You have to admit, Miss Davis, you used us to clean up your mess. Now, we’re officers of the law, so we _will_ clean up your mess and we _will_ protect you - you don’t deserve to be punished for what I think was an honest mistake - but you’ve put us, not to mention yourself, in danger.” 

“Gwen, you should probably get home before somebody misses you,” said Eric, tiredly. Even he wasn’t sure whether he meant her security detail or her husband. “We’ve done all we can for now.”

“Eric…”

“Don’t worry about it.” He turned away, rubbing the back of his neck.

Colin watched Eric for a moment in sympathy, shaking his head, before turning back to Gwen. “Come on, Miss Davis, let’s get you back to Kirkwall. Then we’ll go from there.” 

* * *

Four hours later, the detectives, the vault engineer, and one very large ruby arrived safely at the closest airport to Kirkwall, where Captain Hendallen and a few of her finest were waiting to greet them. 

“Same story,” she informed them once they were in the cars. “Not long after you left Therinfal, it was held up. Not Carta this time, they determined that much. A couple of them were familiar faces – Denam and Carroll. Others we didn’t know. Definitely the Red Templars again. But they didn’t get the ruby.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Colin said. His eyes were wide and his expression a little panicked. “Andraste preserve me, the Red Templars. All three of them. Maker… please tell me everything’s all right with Ev and Nicolas?”

“Everything’s quiet,” she promised, gently. “Hardy’s in the apartment with them and last I heard, Barrett was keeping an eye on the street.”

“See, Curly, I knew they’d have it under control,” said Eric with a smile. “Let’s just get back to HQ and fill out the paperwork and let somebody else deal with shipping Gwen back where she belongs.”

Colin sighed, visibly relieved. “Right. Yes. We have a ruby that needs to be returned to Lady Lenora and we’ll figure out how to get Gwen safe.” 

“We’ve already made arrangements for Gwen’s husband to join her - she’s being put into witness relocation, at least temporarily,” the captain informed them. “I don’t know where they’re being sent, and more importantly, neither do you. The ruby will be assigned a containment place until its owner comes to collect it. You did good work, gentlemen.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said Colin. “All in all, it could have been worse. Physically, at least.” He glanced at Eric as if trying to read his partner’s emotions. 

“That it could.” Eric’s emotions were not on display, for various reasons. Likely he would never see Gwen again, now, and he was much more okay with that than he ever would have expected. He couldn’t hate her, of course; he couldn’t even stay mad at her, not really. She’d always be that niggling shadow in the back of his memories, the thing that occasionally cost him a bit of sleep. But he could let her go, and move forward.

Colin wasn’t privy to the actual farewells exchanged between the older detective and his ex-girlfriend. It was just as well, because while that was happening Colin’s phone rang, and it was a mildly frantic Hardy. “Lyons, it’s time!” she exclaimed. “The baby’s coming early, I called for a bus! Meet us at the hospital!”

The news sent a ripple of shock through the man who was about to become a father again. The phone, which he had initially almost dropped, was now clenched in a vice grip and the blood had drained out of his face in an instant. “What? _What_?” He was breathless as he spoke. “There has to be some sort of mistake! I - Andraste… sweet blood of Andraste… I’ll be right there, I swear it! Tell her I’m on my way!” The words were barely out of his mouth before he took off blindly. 

“Curly?” A blond and disheveled blur rushed past Eric. “Yeah, uh… I’d better take care of that. Look after yourself,” he told Gwen, before turning to sprint after Colin. “Curly, wait! Slow down!”

“There’s no time, Eric, I have to go.” His words were dizzyingly fast, running together into one breathless portmanteau. “Hardy just called. She said Evelyn’s in _labor_. I have to go. I have to get there. I have to get to the hospital _right now_.” 

“Well, damn.” Eric shook his head. “My car. I’ll drive. You can barely string words together, you’ll crash into a light pole or something. Come on.”

* * *

Eric did just that, and later, when the haze of nervous anxiety had subsided, Colin couldn’t help but think the moment was similar to the moment when he had raced to meet Evelyn at the train station. When he ran across the platform in the rain to beg her not to go to Ostwick, he had never imagined that one day he would be running through a hospital to be by his beloved wife’s side as she gave birth. Back then he had been running to atone for the mistakes of his past; now he was running to greet an even brighter future, running towards his family.

They got there in plenty of time and some while later, Colin was holding his baby daughter, all the fear and uncertainty replaced with nothing but joy. Both mother and daughter were well, and both father and new brother couldn’t have been happier. Eric accepted a chocolate cigar; the real things weren’t good for Curly’s ticker (nor anyone else’s), so he went with a tasty alternative as they went around the barracks, delivering the news.

“So what did you finally pick for the name?”

“Eleanor,” the proud father reported. “Eleanor after my mother. Apologies for not naming her after you, Eric,” he added to his partner, “but if it’s any consolation, you’ll at least have quite the story to tell about this whole thing.”

“That’s always a consolation for everything with me,” Eric replied. “Speaking of which, I’m told that Gwen and what’s-his-name are settled with their appointed protections and suchlike.”

“I’m glad to hear that, at least. I’m sorry if I forced you to cut your goodbye short,” he added, slightly chagrined. 

“Don’t apologize. You probably did me a favor,” Eric noted wryly. “I couldn’t figure out what to say to her anyway, you saved me from stumbling over the words. Besides, getting you to the hospital was a lot more important than me getting my ex out of my life.”

“And you know I’ll appreciate it until the day I die,” Colin said. “But that was important too. Maker, what a case. What utter madness.” 

“Captain tell you what she actually did with the ruby? Or any idea what the Red Templars wanted with it? I was assuming they planned to break it into smaller stones and sell them to different buyers, since they seem to be obsessed with accumulating capital.”

Colin nodded. “The ruby as a whole is nearly priceless, but also entirely too recognizable. They thought if they could cut it down and sell it off that way, they could get away with it. Last I heard, the captain has it under heavy guard and is consulting with Fairchild about how best to secure it. I wonder if he’ll help Lenora get a new vault… or if she’ll consult with Gwen again once the protective detail is lifted.”

“Makes sense. And either way, it’s not our problem anymore.” Eric sighed. “The Red Templars, however, are. At least it doesn’t seem like they’re going to attempt to go after your family again… Hardy told me that there was never any suspicious activity anywhere near your place.”

“And thank the Maker for it. Perhaps those monsters decided not to make the same mistake again.” His jaw tightened briefly. “But even so, the fact that they’re free makes me sick.” 

“I know.” Eric nodded. “So. We figure it’s Samuelson pulling strings, based on what Lylia Charrons told us before she died… it’ll take us a while to figure out how to bring him down. It could get dangerous.”

“It could. And that’s the part that worries me. I want to bring him down more than I can possibly say, to help make this city safe. That’s always been my goal, but now more than ever I want to make it safe for my children… yet at the same time I don’t want to do anything that deprives them of their father.” 

“Maybe you should - when Siren feels up to it, obviously - send them to Ferelden for a little while. Have them stay with your sister. Get them out of the immediate spotlight.”

“We’ll have to see. It may be a while before the baby can safely travel and Ev might decide she’d rather stay so we can all support each other. Whatever we end up deciding, Maker be my witness, nothing is going to take us from each other.” 

“Atta boy, Curly. We’ll get this done.” Eric’s mouth was a grim line, but he lifted his coffee cup in a salute. “Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes,” Colin agreed, likewise lifting his cup and taking a long, thoughtful drink. After a beat, he turned to Eric and asked, “After all this, do you think you’ll ever see her again? Gwen, I mean.” 

“You know, there was a time when I would have said ‘I always do,’ but this time… probably not.” Eric shook his head. “And that’s for the best.”

“Well, everything happens for a reason - even things like this,” said Colin. “Whatever else is to come, you’re right that it’s for the best. It’s all for the best.” 

“Cheers to that, Curly.”


	14. The Tourmaline Trap, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this final arc of the story, Eric and Colin investigate the theft of a priceless Chantry relic and make some surprising (or not so surprising) friends along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, sorry for the delay in updates! This will be the final part of this story, and then we'll be getting back to our regular Skyhold Academy shenanigans. 
> 
> This will likely look familiar to our longtime readers, because you may recognize it from its original incarnation as a story by Rory and Jim with the names not changed. This is where it all started, and when the teachers liked it so much, they went crazy with it. We/they had to alter some details to make it fit in with the rest of the stories that were written to go with it, so it won't be completely the same, but hopefully you'll enjoy it!

“We got a postcard from Brennokovic,” said Lucy Hardy one afternoon. It was a few weeks after the Dowager Queen’s mess was resolved, and she dropped the piece of mail on Eric Varras’s desk as she wandered past.

Eric chuckled, taking the card and giving it a quick read before passing it to his partner. Donnen Brennokovic had, like Eric, been a detective on the Kirkwall force for many years, retired several months earlier, and now – according to the postcard – had purchased and opened a small tavern somewhere near the coast. “Lucky bastard. Wish my retirement weren’t so far off. I’d love to do something like what he’s got going.”

“Somehow, it’s hard to picture you ever retiring,” said Colin, with a slight laugh. There was no malice in the remark - he was too earnest for that. “This job is practically your life.”

“You go home at night to your pretty wife and adorable munchkins. This is what keeps me going.” Eric shrugged. “Living vicariously through you could definitely be worse. You’re right, though, I’ll probably do this until I die.”

“What does this part mean here?” Colin asked, pointing at one line on the postcard. “ _Say hello to the Champion_. Who’s that?”

“The Champion of Kirkwall. I’ve heard of her, but never actually met the woman,” Eric explained. “It’s a special position awarded by the Viscount’s office, exclusive to the Free Marches. Any of the city-states can appoint a champion if one of the citizens has immersed themselves sufficiently in the people’s problems. Our Champion helped bring down a crime syndicate a few years ago and got a shiny title for her trouble. She operates mostly out of the limelight anymore – I suppose the captain knows her, and apparently Donnen knew her when he was here too, but she likes her privacy so she kind of goes incognito whenever she can.”

“If you two are done yammering,” interrupted the stern voice of Captain Hendallen, “we’ve got a major issue that I want you to handle.” She passed a folder to Colin. “Head up to the Chantry in Hightown, and keep your lips zipped. Seems that someone has broken in and made off with one of the holy relics – that necklace Divine Rosamund owned. You know the one.”

The young detective cracked open the folder to glance at the report. “Yes, of course,” he remarked. “Stole it, you say?”

“How’d they even get their hands on it?” Eric looked baffled. “I don’t exactly visit the Chantry on a regular basis, but last time I was there, that thing was under glass and flanked by a pair of honor guards.”

“Still is,” Colin confirmed. “At least, it was. I guess we’ll find out more when we get there - I’d better call home and let them know I’ll be late.”

“Go on. I’ll warm up the car.”

* * *

“As you may have heard,” said the Grand Cleric, “the precious necklace of Divine Rosamund has been in the care of the Kirkwall Chantry for some time now.”

“Pretty sure everyone in the Free Marches has heard that, Your Grace,” said Eric dryly.

“Rosamund was elected at nineteen years of age, the youngest Divine in the Chantry’s history,” she continued, as though she hadn’t heard him. Maybe she hadn’t. “The necklace, which she wore all her life, was a gift from her grandmother, Queen Asha Campana of Antiva, and is notable for the exceptional tourmaline gemstones set into it. The necklace is normally kept at the Grand Cathedral, but in an effort to share holy treasures with more of the faithful, it will be spending a year in the Chantry of every major city or nation. Unfortunately, we’ve had… a problem.”

“What can you tell us about the incident, Your Grace?” Colin asked, flipping through his notes to a clean page, his pen poised to start writing.

“Per the current Divine’s directives, the necklace was kept under glass with an honor guard of at least two Orlesian Imperial soldiers at all times,” she said, guiding them through the Cathedral to the place of glory. “Sometime last night, however, the guards were incapacitated and the necklace removed. No one seems to know anything; the morning revealed both guards tied up and unconscious, and no clues that we can find.”

“Never a dull moment in Kirkwall,” Colin remarked quietly to Eric as they studied the empty case. To the Grand Cleric, he said, “Has anyone interviewed the guards yet to see if they remember any details at all?”

“Yes, but to no avail. They say their minds are completely blank - and both appear to be quite ill besides. They’ve been taken to the hospital for evaluation.” She shook her head. “I pray you will have success, detectives. The loss of that necklace is incalculable. Maker only knows what the thieves plan to do with it.”

“It’s all right, Your Grace, we’ll find whoever did this and make sure the relic is returned,” Colin vowed. “You have my word.”

“What he said.” Eric nodded. “We’ll do everything we can. Let’s head over to the hospital and start interviewing the soldiers; it’s a starting point.”

As they left the Grand Cathedral, however, a young boy - he couldn’t have been more than ten - rushed up to them. He had a mean, underfed look, like someone had plucked him out of the dregs of Darktown and given him a couple of silver just to play messenger. In point of fact, Eric suspected that was exactly what had happened. “Letter for you, sers!” he barked, shoving a rolled-up note into Colin’s hand before dashing away again.

For a moment, Colin was too stunned to even speak. Then, his gaze swiveled to Eric. “How could we have been sent a letter out here? I didn’t think anyone except the captain knew what we were doing.”

“No idea, kid. Let’s have a look at the note.” He took the scroll and broke the seal. “Hmm. _I have information but I won’t talk without protection. Meet me at the Hanged Man_. Right, that’s not suspicious.”

Colin’s brows knitted and he reclaimed the letter in order to scan it once more. “I’ve never been one to turn down a lead,” he said, “but I’m not sure I like this.”

“Well… you’ve seen one bar brawl, you’ve seen them all. Worst that happens is Corff throws us out on our rears.” Eric shrugged. “Let’s go be nosy and have a drink.”

* * *

Within the hour, both detectives were standing in front of the Hanged Man, Kirkwall’s preeminent dive.

“New conundrum,” Eric muttered as they entered, breathing the scent of stale beer and rat droppings. “How are we going to find this person in the first place?”

“Well, they knew enough to send us that letter,” said Colin, looking around. “Maybe they’ll find us?”

“Over there.” Eric jerked his head toward one corner, where two hooded figures stood watching them. One beckoned, then turned and led the other up the narrow creaking stairs to the rooms for rent. “I guess… we have to follow, if we want to know what’s going on. Stay close.”

“That or we’re walking into a trap,” Colin pointed out, but he followed Eric nevertheless.

“I know, but we won’t know which one until we investigate.” As they turned a corner, leading to a dead end, they found themselves confronted by roughly seven figures clad in leather. “Okay, it’s a trap.”

“You’re investigating the theft of that necklace,” said one, apparently acting as the spokesman. “This is your only warning. Walk away now and forget the whole thing, or you’ll be in a worse state than those soldiers.”

“We don’t take kindly to threats,” Colin retorted. “Particularly from the likes of you. Think carefully about what you’re doing.”

“Nice speech, but… I don’t think this is helping,” Eric murmured, watching almost helplessly as their adversaries sprang to attack. He almost forgot to go for his gun, but suddenly, the entire corridor was filled with a white noxious smoke. He could hear people gasping uncontrollably and coughing. “Curly!” he managed, stumbling backward. “Curly, come on!”

A hand seized his wrist. “Follow me,” said an unfamiliar voice, and he belatedly realized that both he and Colin were being pulled through the tavern and out into the fresh air.

Standing in the sunlight, breathing deeply, he took a hard look at their rescuer. “Andraste’s ass! What just happened?” he demanded.

“Simple - you sprang a trap, and I pulled you both out before those goons had a chance to crack your skulls open,” said the dame standing before them. “This is usually the part where I get a thank you.”

“Uh. Thank you,” said Eric, almost mystified. “You… want to explain things?”

“I will, but not here. I thought the Hanged Man would work for our purposes,” she admitted, “but they followed me after I sent the boy. So I hid and waited to un-spring the trap once you sprang it. They won’t be delayed for long - where’s your car?”

Probably figuring it couldn’t get any worse - and the woman did just save their necks - Colin pointed in the direction of the car with only minimal hesitation. “It’s this way.”

“Good. Let’s go, I’ll explain as you drive.”

Several minutes later, they were on their way to the hospital as originally planned, and the woman lounged on the back seat. She had long legs and sharp eyes, and the sort of face that made you think she could kill you and you’d thank her for the privilege. “My name is Miriam Falcon,” she said. “Around your workplace, I guess they still call me the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Well, that’s a fine coincidence,” said Eric lightly, glancing in the rearview mirror at her. “We were just talking about you a little while ago – our old buddy Brennokovic sent a postcard, asked us to tell you hello.”

“Oh, Donnen. Nice guy. Well, it’s Falcon to you. I have information on the theft of Rosamund’s necklace, but there’s a condition. I’ll help you only if you can offer protection.”

“Protection?” Colin repeated. “You seem like you can handle yourself, Ms. Falcon.”

She chuckled. “Oh, I can. And they know I can. Just Falcon - you can drop the Ms. bit. No, it’s for my younger sister. The people you’re after know that I’ve got information that can help you, so they’re threatening her. She’s safe for the moment but I need a better setup.”

“If you tell us what you know, I’m sure we can keep her safe, Ms… _Falcon_ ,” Colin corrected. “We can find her some guards or something similar.”

“Not good enough. I want her _safe_.” Falcon shook her head. “I want someone personally appointed to watch over her at all times. You don’t know who you’re up against… they could get into even your police barracks.”

“All right, if we agree to that, will you tell us what you know?”

“I will not only tell you what I know, I will go with you every step of the way. I may not be the most devout Andrastian in Thedas, but some things are just wrong.”

* * *

The soldiers at the hospital were in a bad way. The doctor was able to give the detectives an explanation as to why. “They were drugged,” he said simply. “A powerful sedative I’ve only seen in books - it’s not available on the open market. They call it Crow Venom.”

“Bit of a stupid name,” Eric grumbled. “Crows aren’t venomous.”

“I didn’t name it,” Dr. Lydes replied mildly. “At any rate, it wipes the mind. How bad the wipe is will depend on how much is administered; in their case, they were lucky to be given only a small dose. They’ve lost a few days’ worth of memories, nothing more. But they’ll be able to give you no intelligence about the theft, I’m afraid.”

“Keep them under guard, just in case,” Eric advised. “We’ll be in touch; if you learn anything, contact Captain Hendallen right away.”

“Well,” said Colin as they walked down the hallway, “there goes any hope of clues from the soldiers. Maybe we can get some leads on this ‘Crow Venom.’”

“It’s something to try. Let’s see what Falcon wants us to do about this little sister of hers. I am not keen on babysitting.” They had left their new acquaintance in the car, where she assured them she could look after herself.

“It’s a small price to pay for the information Falcon has. At least I hope.”

“I guess it depends on how much of a handful the sister is.” Eric shrugged.

At Falcon’s direction, they returned to Hightown, to one of the stately manors which lined the cobbled streets. Like its neighbors, the Falcon estate was carved of whitish-gray stone, and it glowered at them in the light of the setting sun like an angry monolith. “My sister’s inside,” she told them. “I left her under the protection of some friends - nobody will have messed with them thus far. But my friends can’t stay, so what I want is for her to be taken out of the city.”

“And taken where?” Colin inquired. “You said earlier you didn’t trust the police barracks.”

“Well, if she’s finished what she was doing when I left, she’ll be well-disguised and can be taken almost anywhere relatively public. The Crows aren’t stupid and they don’t like to make a mess in civilized places if they can help it,” said Falcon. “Come inside and meet her, and you can figure it out among yourselves. But this is the price of my aid; my sister has to be safe. She’s all I have.”

Colin was silent for a moment, nodding in understanding. “We’ll keep her safe, Falcon,” he promised, then followed her inside.

They found the premises being guarded by a familiar surly man with white hair and piercing green eyes, who looked wary until he spotted Falcon. “So,” he said, “you’re the help she went to find. I might have guessed.”

“Ferris?” Eric looked bewildered, like he’d just discovered that the tooth fairy was really Old Man Withers who owns the abandoned amusement park. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking after my sister-in-law. She’s in her room,” he added, glancing at Falcon. “Belladonna’s helping her with the dress, and the dog is up there with them.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Wait.” Colin glanced from Ferris, bartender and renter of rooms at the Hanged Man, to Falcon and back again. “You two are…?”

“Married.” Ferris nodded curtly.

“You’re married to the Champion of Kirkwall?” Eric bleated. “And you never told us?”

He shrugged. “You never asked.”

“…if we _had_ asked, would you have told us?”

“Probably not.”

Falcon chuckled, shaking her head. “Were there any problems?”

“None to speak of. Either they don’t yet know where you live, which I doubt, or they’re watching to see what you do before making a move. The Crows aren’t known for premature actions.”

Soon after, a woman in too-tight white leather sauntered down the stairs, heavy gold earrings rustling on either side of her head. “You look like the cat who ate the canary,” Falcon commented.

“You’re going to _hate_ what little sister is wearing,” the woman informed her. Glancing at the two detectives, she gave Colin an admiring second look; Eric could pinpoint the exact second she noticed his wedding ring. “But,” she continued, turning back to Falcon, “it should serve the purpose. Nobody in their right mind will think this is Constance.”

The sound of barking filled the room, then, as a large mabari warhound made its way down the same stairs. He was followed closely by a woman in red satin, who looked for all the world like she wanted to run back upstairs and trade the dress for flannel pajamas. Constance Falcon was shorter than her sister, with delicate features and glossy black hair. She was the prettier of the two, Eric thought absently, and didn’t have the same air of defiant confidence. In her hands she carried a blonde wig, evidently the final part of her disguise.

“Oh, Connie.” Falcon chuckled. “Well, you look lovely even when terrified. It’s going to be fine, I promise.” She gestured to their guests. “Detectives Lyons and Varras are going to make sure nothing happens to you.”

Constance managed a weak smile, nodding to the detectives. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she said, “I just wish the circumstances were better.” To Falcon she added, “Is the disguise really necessary, sister?”

“I know you don’t like it. But the Crows are going to be looking for someone matching your description; you need to look as different as possible.”

Constance sighed and, looking put out in the extreme, popped the blonde wig on her head. “I must look a complete fool,” she grumbled, adjusting the wig over her natural hair.

“Nah,” Eric found himself saying. A little surprised by the outburst, he shook his head. “So what’s our next move?”

“Well, I… suppose we get out of Hightown?” Constance shifted, as if a little unsure what to do. “Go somewhere public?”

“Any ideas?” said Colin.

“Well… there is that one club outside of town,” said Eric, thoughtfully. “Adamant. I go there sometimes, we get intel from the bartender – decent bar, nice music.”

Constance cracked a smile. “Well if the goal is to go someplace where they won’t expect me to be, that’s a safe bet. I heard that club is nearly impossible to get into, though.”

“Not if you know people. I can probably get a couple of us in without difficulty.”

“We can’t all go anyway,” Falcon pointed out. “They’ll be expecting you to be with me so I can keep an eye on you, so I can’t go, and Lyons, you mentioned researching the Crow Venom. I think one of you should take Connie, and I’ll go with the other one to look into this other stuff.”

“Probably a good idea,” said Colin, looking impressed. “I can stay with Falcon - I would probably be useless at a club anyway.” He chuckled.

Eric blinked. “Uh. Well. All right, but I should… change, in that case.”

“Do you live far?” Falcon asked.

“Not terribly. I can be back within the hour.” He wanted to glare at his partner, but didn’t quite dare. This was likely to be awkward.

“Want me to give you a lift back?” Colin offered.

“I’m sure I’ll be safe in the time it takes you both to leave and come back,” Constance added. “I’ll be with sis and Fenris and Belladonna, after all.”

“There’s that. Yeah, okay, Curly. We’ll be back as soon as possible - try not to have too much fun without us.” Eric followed Colin out to the car, feeling oddly twitchy.

“I’m glad Falcon agreed to research the Crow Venom,” Colin was saying as they walked out. “It seems like she has resources we don’t even know about. Maybe she can…” His voice trailed off abruptly as he watched his partner. “Is something wrong?”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather take her to the club? I mean, yeah, research is kind of your thing, but I… have not taken anybody anywhere in quite some time.” Eric shook his head. “Never mind. I’m overthinking this. It’s just a job.”

“Just a job,” Colin agreed. But he couldn’t help but chuckle slightly as he glanced at Eric from the corner of his eye. “Not exactly the ‘babysitting’ assignment we were expecting though, is it?”

“The way her sister talked, I was expecting a teenager,” the older detective admitted. “Not - what do you think she is? 25?”

“25, 26,” Colin guessed, nodding. “You never really stop being ‘the baby sibling’ when it comes to the opinion of your elder siblings, though, so it makes sense Falcon wants to protect her.”

“I’ll take your word for it. My older brother would have sold me for car parts if he’d gotten a good enough offer.” Eric shrugged.

* * *

He returned about half an hour later, having put on his best suit and scraped his square jaw with a razor. He felt ill at ease, sort of like the sensation of being in line for a roller coaster that he’d just as soon not ride; it was a thrill of nausea coupled with an undercurrent of something he couldn’t identify.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, once Fenris had admitted him to the house again. He took off his hat as he entered the main sitting room. “Do you need anything before we go?”

“No, nothing comes to mind,” said the younger Falcon, looking up. She paused for a beat, then smiled. “You look very nice, Detective,” she said brightly.

He blinked a couple times, as though suddenly confronted with a blinding light. “...thanks. Uh. You too. Well, let’s get going then.” He looked at Falcon, feeling more at ease with the elder sister. “You two find anything important, have Curly text me right away.”

“Of course,” Falcon said. She looked faintly amused, as did Colin, as if the two were privy to some hilarious joke of which the others weren’t aware. “You two have fun. And be careful.”

“I’ll guard her with my life.” That didn’t sound ominous or anything.

In short order, Eric’s car was speeding out of the city and in the direction of the club. “Interesting place, this,” he said. “It’s kind of a throwback to the last age; all the performers and servers and whatnot are in period costume and the songs are all from that time frame. Decent setup and the bartender sometimes gives us useful info about people he encounters.”

She nodded. “I’m sure it will be fascinating,” she said, checking her lipstick in the visor mirror with a look of uncertainty. She fell silent after that for a few moments before sighing and glancing at Eric. “You seem… on edge, Detective. Well, then again, I suppose I do as well, don’t I?”

“Little bit. But you’re within your rights. Don’t mind me, I just take my job very seriously.” He spared her a brief glance. “You’re stuck with me for the night; might as well call me Eric.”

“All right, then, Eric it is.” She rubbed her palms together, as if considering something. “Is my… is my sister going to be all right?” she said at last. “I’m afraid she may have bitten off more than she can chew this time.”

“Don’t you worry, Sunshine, we’re going to make sure nothing happens to either one of you.” The nickname slipped out so easily; they always did. This one wasn’t mocking like his nicknames often were, however. “Curly - my partner - he’s one of the best. She’s in good hands.”

“I certainly hope so. She always says I’m all she has, but she’s all I have too.” She turned away, fussing with the synthetic strands of the wig, then slowly turned back. “So... you like to call people by nicknames, don’t you? Like your partner, Detective Lyons, is ‘Curly.’”

“Old habit. Does it bother you?”

“Oh! Oh, no, not at all. I just… ‘Sunshine’.” She repeated the new moniker, her lips curling into a smile. “I wasn’t expecting it. But I like it.”

“I usually don’t think about them too much. The whole process runs purely on instinct,” he explained. “Something that strikes me about a person when I first meet them. Usually it’s got something to do with how a person looks, like my partner being Curly because of his hair. Sometimes it’s a little deeper than that.”

“And I’m ‘Sunshine’?” she asked again, as if this were unfathomable. “I don’t feel very sunny here of late…”

“Well, there must be something sunny about you to make me call you that. Like I said, instinct.” He flashed her what he hoped was a reassuring grin. “Besides, it’s probably safer if I don’t use your real name in public - just in case.”

“That’s a good point.” She returned the smile and sat up a bit straighter. “At least for today, then, I’ll do what I can to bring the sun with me.”

“Something tells me you don’t have to try very hard.” He pulled the car into the club’s parking deck. “Here we are.” Turning off the ignition, he looked at her seriously. “It’s gonna be okay. Just… relax, and try to have a good time.”

She nodded at that, looking a bit like she was deliberately trying to steel herself. “I know it probably sounds silly, but somehow I believe you when you say that… that it’s going to be okay.” She took a deep breath. “And I’ll try to enjoy, I promise.”

“That’s the spirit. Look, you’re young, beautiful, and probably like catnip to the guys in there. Enjoy it. I’ll make sure nobody bothers you if you don’t want them around.” He got out of the car and moved around to open her door for her.

She smiled at the gesture and climbed out of the car carefully, clearly unaccustomed to the shoes she was wearing. “Honestly? I get the feeling I’d much rather spend the evening with you.”

Genuinely startled, even as he gave her his arm to steady her, Eric uttered a bark of laughter. “Sunshine, I’m flattered, but entirely too old for you. Old and jaded and I have a face that was made for radio.”

She chuckled at that, a warm sound. “And I think you give yourself too little credit,” she protested. “Let me be the judge of how I want to spend the evening. Deal?”

“Far be it from me to argue with a lady.”

* * *

Eric supposed he couldn’t really fault the bartender for the shocked look on his face as they approached. “Evening, Krem,” he said. “Sunshine, what’ll you have?”

“Oh, uh…” She pondered the question, but seemed to come up empty. “Whatever you recommend is fine by me.”

He nodded. “Two of my usual then, please.”

“Coming right up, Mr. V.”

“Any scuttlebutt?” the detective asked in a lower tone.

“I’m hearing rumors that the Crows are in town,” Krem replied, his own voice equally low. “Nobody seems to know why, but I’d keep my eyes peeled if I were you. None in here tonight as far as I can tell, though… that changes, I’ll give you a signal.”

“Thanks.” Eric took the glasses and gave Constance a nod. “How about that booth in the corner? Backs to the wall and a nice view of the stage.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll follow you.” She smiled at the bartender in thanks, still looking a bit unsure of herself as she glanced around. She wore the faintly haunted expression of someone who had had to spend too long looking over her shoulder.

He watched her for a moment, frowning slightly as they slid into the booth. On the stage, a gorgeous redhead in a sparkling purple dress poured herself onto a stool and beckoned to a hulking bearded man. As the piano started to play, they launched into a sultry duet.

The duo was well suited, and were accompanied by an Antivan dame decked in gold playing the piano. Constance listened with rapt attention, leaning on her folded hands. The dim lights of the club glistened faintly on the locks of her wig and made her brown eyes glint like two stolen gemstones; they probably matched the ones in Rosamund’s necklace almost perfectly. After a moment, her gaze swiveled to Eric and her lips twitched into a shy, almost coquettish smile. “I don’t suppose you dance, do you, Detective?”

Some sort of alarm was ringing in the back of Eric’s mind, and he took a drink to buy himself some time. “I, uh… I’m not… much of a dancer, no,” he managed. “Are you?”

“A bit. I think I _like_ to dance more than I’d necessarily say I’m _good_ at it.” She chuckled. “But I never say no - especially not with the right partner.”

“Ah.” She was fishing like it was the first day of trout season, and he eyed the lure with his usual cynicism. “Maybe next song. So.” Maker, he was worse at this than Captain Hendallen had been with her husband. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Me?” She slowly traced the rim of her glass as if in thought. “You know I’m the Champion of Kirkwall’s sister, of course - sometimes I ran with her and her friends, trying to clean up the city’s mean streets. Compared to that, anything I say probably sounds mundane.” She chuckled again. “But I have a head for fashion too, design my own clothes from time to time. It’s nice to have a sort of bright hobby when so much of the world is dark.”

He nodded. He could respect that. She had a brain in that pretty head, unlike some of the dolls he’d met in the past. But to be fair, he’d met plenty of empty-headed male muscle too. “Your sister is friends with my boss,” he said abruptly, wondering why it had taken him so long to put those puzzle pieces together. “How come she didn’t just ask the captain for help?”

“She did,” Constance said. “Captain Hendallen suggested you and your partner. She seems to think you can get the job done where no one else can.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret that. The captain was by no means negligent when it came to acknowledging that her men and women did good work, but to have been recommended for something like _this_ was… different. Eric wasn’t even sure why it was different; it just had a faintly surreal quality to it, like when a major holiday falls on a weekday and you spend the rest of the week trying to figure out what day it is.

* * *

Back at the Falcon residence, the Champion and Colin were going over everything they could find about the Crows and their mysterious venom. “Mostly what I was able to offer you was the fact that they’re responsible,” Falcon explained. “I have a friend, a Chantry brother who witnessed enough for me to piece it together. He’s gone underground until this is all over.”

“That’s a shame - we can use all the help we can get,” said Colin, shutting the lid of his laptop with a sigh. “Does this friend of yours have any idea why the Crows came after the relic in the first place? Such a valuable artifact is bound to attract attention, after all. Surely there are easier targets.”

“That’s what neither he nor I could figure out,” Falcon admitted. She leaned back in her chair, pulling on a lock of hair and pouting at it like it owed her money. “They can’t very well sell it the way it is - it’s too recognizable. So they must plan to either bust it apart and sell the gems, or else they intend to keep it. But why?”

“Exactly. The Crows don’t exactly strike me as the types who long for holy artifacts,” he said. “Unless they’re stealing it for someone else.”

“They must be. And that someone must be paying through the nose to get the help of an outfit like the Crows, but who… who would have that kind of coin and the pulsing desire to possess something like this?”

“The list of people who check off both of those boxes can’t be _that_ large,” Colin said with a note of that youthful optimism the mean streets had yet to steal from him. “It’s a start.”

Falcon frowned, the space between her eyebrows scrunching like the mouth of a child who has just eaten an anchovy by mistake. “Maybe we should approach this backwards,” she offered. “Come up with reasons why someone would engineer a heist like this. If we can find the motive, that should narrow down the likely suspects.”

“That’s a good plan,” Colin said, regarding Falcon over his reading glasses. “You seem to know a lot about the process behind this. Were you ever law enforcement yourself?”

“Only unofficially. I _am_ the Champion of Kirkwall, for some reason. Your police chief is an old friend of mine.” She shrugged. “I’ve helped her out a time or two in the past.”

“Well, unofficial or not, if Captain Hendallen trusts you, that’s quite the endorsement.” He smiled, then turned his attention back to their research. “So, let’s see what we can find on motive. Maker knows this city has enough crooks - and the worst crooks are the ones in positions of power - so I’m sure someone would be willing to steal a holy relic to feather their cap.”

“The person behind it all must plan to do something with the necklace. Either they’ll keep it for themselves, or they’ll hold it for ransom, or they’ll destroy it,” Falcon decided. “Those seem to be the most likely possibilities, at least in my mind.”

“I would agree. And if they have enough money to throw around to accomplish that goal, the best bet would be to start at the top where the people with the gold are.”

“Like, say, the district attorney’s office in the Gallows?”

“Not a bad place to start,” he said, shrugging slightly. “I say it’s time to go stick our noses where they aren’t wanted and see what we can find.”

“Oh, _you_ I like. Let’s go.”

* * *

The song was ending and Eric was not convinced that dancing was something he ought to be doing. On the other hand, he was supposed to look like he was on a date with this girl, so bringing her to a dance club and not dancing might be a large hint to anyone paying attention that things weren’t what they seemed. He already looked as out of place as a nug in a sports bar; it was probably wise to at least try to blend in. That’s what he told himself, anyway, knocking back the last of his drink. “All right, I did say next song,” he said, nodding toward the singers. “Would you like to dance?”

Constance smiled in something almost like triumph. She paused, listening as the song started. “I _have_ always loved this song,” she said impishly. “It would be my pleasure, Detec- Eric.”

“Don’t say that until you’ve actually seen me dance,” he replied, sliding out of the booth and leading her onto the dance floor. “I’ll try not to step on you too much.”

“I have every confidence in your abilities.” She chuckled, settling into position in his arms. “And if you get lost, you can always follow me.”

“Funny, I’ve heard that line before… but you seem like the kind of light a man might really want to follow, Sunshine,” he mused. He shook his head. “That didn’t sound right. Never mind.”

“Nonsense, it sounded just fine to me.” Her smile was luminous. “If my role is to be the light in the darkness, well, I think that would be all right by me.”

“Guess somebody has to do it,” he said, a bit gruffly. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a mess like this, anyway?”

“I’ve got my sad story, same as anyone.” She sighed a bit as they swayed. “My family and I came to Kirkwall from Ferelden a few years ago - and lost both my father and my brother around that same time. After that, my sister and I did everything we could to give our mother the life she deserved. Now Mother’s gone too, and all Miriam and I have left is each other.”

“And then she got mixed up in this crisis and you’re paying the price. You two have been through a lot already.” Sometimes the Maker just didn’t play fair, he reflected. “You ought to be… I don’t know, off designing a fashion line or breaking a couple dozen hearts or something. Not dealing with this garbage. That’s for old cynics like me.”

She smiled a little. “Well, the fashion line does sound nice. Maybe someday. But until then, someone needs to look after my sister while she’s busy looking after everyone else. And besides, I don’t like waiting around for everyone else to clean up these messes. Other people always took the risks to keep me safe - the least I can do is take some of my own.”

“Nice girls like you shouldn’t have to take risks.” It was starting to really bother him how much he actually meant that. “The world is a hard, ugly place. Soft things should be safe. Protected.” Okay, that was it - no more chili after 9 p.m. It was clearly messing with his ability to say things plainly.

Constance gave a tiny snort of laughter. “I’m not exactly a ‘soft thing’. Softer than my sister, certainly. Maybe softer than a lot of people in this city, and more optimistic - perhaps foolishly so, at times. But never soft if I can help it.” She flashed him a mischievous grin.

“I don’t know… you’re hands down the softest thing I’ve encountered in a long time, kid. But don’t listen to me, I’m old and tired and cranky.”

She gave a more genuine laugh at that. “No, no, not old and cranky. Maybe a little tired, that much I’ll allow. But certainly not old. And not too terribly cranky either, from what I’ve seen.”

“I don’t know what rose-colored contact lenses you’re wearing, but I could use a pair,” he replied. “I’m probably old enough to be your dad.”

“I doubt that very much.” She laughed again. “I’m not exactly a child, even if Miriam does call me her ‘baby’ sister.”

“You’re what, 22?”

“You can go ahead and add a few more years to that guess. Try 27. I’m a big enough girl to tie my own shoelaces and everything,” she teased.

“All right, I do stand corrected. I’m not _quite_ old enough to be your dad,” he replied, amused. “I mean, I guess it’s technically possible to become a father at twelve, but that’s beside the point.” _Well done on keeping sight of what’s important in this conversation_ , he told himself. “You’re older than you look.”

“I get that a lot. Maybe it’s my ‘sunny’ disposition that keeps me looking young.” She chuckled. “So you’re 39, then? How long have you been a detective?”

“About a hundred years, give or take. Maybe that’s just how it feels,” he amended. “Joined the force straight out of college.” He shrugged. “It pays the bills and keeps the streets a little cleaner. I’ll take what I can get.”

“It must be a hard life - especially in a city like Kirkwall. I think it takes an exceptional person to do what you do, Eric, truly.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Seems like anybody could do it if they wanted to do it… it’s just that most people aren’t interested. Still not sure how we got Curly, if you want to know the truth.” The song, he realized vaguely, was ending, and he started guiding Constance back to their table. “Happily married, cute kids, well educated, and way too sweet for a cop. He should have been a kindergarten teacher or something.”

She laughed at that; for such a hard-boiled fella, Eric had somehow made her laugh more times since they arrived than he could have expected. “It’s an impulse to help people, I suppose - it manifests itself in all sorts of ways. For the two of you, it called you to do this. I admire that.”

“You make it sound better than it is.” Eric was torn between amusement and resignation. “To me, it’s just something I do every day that gives me a reason to get out of bed. Like I said to Curly just this morning, it’s probably what I’ll keep doing every day until I drop dead.”

“That… I think that would be a very lonely life,” she said, sounding rather deliberately casual.

He shrugged. “It is what it is. You didn’t come here to listen to me, Sunshine. You want another drink?”

“I would love one.” She nodded. “Oh, and technically, I came here to get out of Hightown - that mission’s been accomplished, so the rest of the evening is me doing what I want. And what I want is to listen to you.”

“Can’t imagine why.” He smiled, however. There was something about the girl that made talking to her feel strangely comfortable, like stretching out a muscle he hadn’t noticed had grown tense and stiff. “Another of the same? Or do you want something different?”

She pondered that for a moment, popping her red lips in thought. Then she smiled. “Surprise me.”

“Back in a minute.” He forced a cheerful look until he was out of her sight, putting their empty glasses on the bar. “Krem, what do you recommend as a follow-up drink for the lady? She said to surprise her and I’m not really good at that.”

“Surprise her, eh? Let’s see…” He studied the wall of bottles behind him, before settling on one and pouring. He watched Eric as he did so. “Everything all right? You seem… dunno, not yourself. Like something’s bothering you - more than usual.”

“Eh… I’m not good at this whole thing.” He gestured vaguely toward the table. “Plus I’m on the job, which makes it weirder. I’ll be fine, kid, thanks. Let me have another of my usual.”

“You got it, Detective.” He procured the drink in short order and handed it to Eric. “Oh, and for what it’s worth, it seems like she’s having a good time. I’d say you’re doing all right.”

“Appreciate it.” He left a decent tip in the jar and headed back to the table, his mind still churning like the Waking Sea in a storm.

Constance’s mouth had scrunched in a frown by the time he returned. Her lips twitched into some semblance of a smile as she thanked him for the drink, but the shadow of the frown still remained. “Those men…” she said quietly, nodding to one corner of the bar, “I don’t like how they’re looking at me.”

Immediately Eric felt his hackles rise. He peered in the direction she’d indicated, eyes narrowed. “All right, time for a little performance,” he muttered. “Sip your drink, and act like what I’m saying is hilarious and charming.” He settled his own features into a carefully suave expression, smiling at her. “We’ll finish the drinks and make our way to the door, nice and natural.”

“Probably a good plan - although I will admit I was hoping we could steal another dance. Some other time, I suppose.” She smiled, and sipped her drink as told. “Mm, well, the drink is good.” Following instructions, she waited a beat and then laughed, batting Eric’s hand playfully.

“I’m not actually sure what it is,” he admitted. “Asked the barkeep to recommend something he thought you’d like. He says you look like you’re having a good time, which means he’s been looking over here. I can slip him your number sometime if you want.” That notion left a vaguely unpleasant taste in his mouth, like when you’re eating jelly beans and you accidentally take a black one because the light makes it look green.

“He’s certainly handsome, but I don’t think he’s quite the right fit for me. Besides, I’m sure he has plenty of admirers.”

“You’re not wrong,” Eric agreed. He leaned in as though whispering suggestively in her ear. “We’ll slip out in a minute or two and make for the car. I know a couple other places outside the city where we can kill time, maybe check in with your sister. Hopefully they’ll have found something.”

“All right,” she agreed, her fingers gently stroking his stubbled cheek as she spoke. She did her best not to look over at the men in the corner, and just hoped they were taking in this scene.

What was with this dame? He felt the cheek under her fingers grow hot, and had to fight the urge to pull away. It was all for show, after all; just a masterful bluff in the game of Wicked Grace that was the whole evening. But he realized, noticing the way the club lights made her eyes sparkle, that he was going to fall like a house of cards if he didn’t watch himself.

For the requisite two minutes, she took her eyes off of him only to sip at the liquid in her glass. Otherwise, she watched him as if trying to puzzle him out, her fingers dancing over his knuckles or her thumb ghosting across his lips. Then, she propped her elbow on the table, leaning into her palm as she studied him. “As wonderful as this evening has been so far, maybe we should make our exit,” she said at last, blinking languidly like a drowsy-eyed starlet from a silent movie.

“Sounds like a good idea, Sunshine.” He put on his hat and stood, offering her a hand. “I have some ideas about where to go from here.”

“I look forward to finding out what they are.” She slipped her hand into his and pressed close to his side as they made their exit, as if hoping sheer proximity to him would protect her.

She was rattled; he could practically smell it. Trying to reassure her, he released her hand and wrapped an arm firmly around her shoulders. “Just giggle,” he advised in low tones. “Or act like you’re whispering in my ear. You’re a pretty good actress.”

Clearly deciding both suggestions suited her, Constance giggled, then turned and whispered, “Who’s to say it’s all an act?”

“I - heh…” Eric loosened his tie with his free hand, wondering why it felt so much like he was choking. “Gotta say, Sunshine, this is probably the most interesting night of work I’ve ever had.”

“Good, I aim to please,” she said teasingly, a slight smile curling her lips. But the smile quickly evaporated at the sound of footsteps behind them. “I think… I think we have company.”


	15. The Tourmaline Trap, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more key players are brought into the adventure, and Eric's got quite the dame on his hands.

Colin did not particularly like the Gallows, but that wasn’t the fault of the building - it lay entirely at the feet of the people who worked there, and thus he had a vaguely pained look on his face as he and Falcon made their way up the stairs. “I just pray their information is useful,” he muttered as they entered, more to himself than to her.

“There’s got to be at least _something_ we can learn,” she pointed out, pragmatically, “even if it’s that nobody here is responsible. An absence of information is sometimes more telling than an abundance of it.”

“Very true. Although it wouldn’t surprise me to learn they were involved somehow - even if they just have some passing knowledge of the crime. We’ve encountered the judge and the district attorney here in various cases and in… various situations. Said situations have never been pleasant, to say the least.” But he would force himself to remain as impartial and unbiased as possible. He was here to do a job, and that’s what he was going to do, come hell or high water.

When they arrived, an icy receptionist saw them into the main office where they could speak to the judge and the head district attorney. As soon as Colin and Falcon’s arrival was announced, the judge waved the receptionist off and turned to face the pair with a smirk like she had the winning hand in Wicked Grace.

If life was a canvas, Judge Judith Stendahl wasn’t much of a painter. She had only two colors on her palette - black and white - and she tended to paint everyone with the same brush. For her, the line between guilty and innocent was a thin one, and the line between “cruel and unusual punishment” and just a regular afternoon was nonexistent.

“Detective Lyons,” she said coolly. “I see you brought a guest.” To Falcon, she added, “It's nice to see you, Champion.”

“Likewise, Your Honor,” Falcon replied calmly. “We appreciate your taking the time to help us with this matter. I know how devout you are, so I’m sure you understand the importance of our errand.”

“Of course. You are doing the Maker’s work, surely.” She leaned forward to light a cigarette, letting the smoke wreath her head. “Please, sit down. Can I get you anything?” Her gaze roved to Colin. “I know you’re fond of coffee, Detective, I can have Samuelson fetch some for you.” She indicated the district attorney with a nod.

“No, I’m fine,” Colin replied tersely. “I’d rather we get down to business, Your Honor.”

“I’m looking forward to you doing your job so I can do mine, Lyons,” rasped the DA. “Bringing these heathens to justice is going to be a rare treat for me.”

“Well then, I’m sure you would be more than happy to comply with our inquiry,” said Colin, and his tone was still tense. “We have reason to believe the necklace was taken by the Crows. And since I doubt the Crows have any use whatsoever for a holy artifact, we’re working under the assumption they are working for someone who does. Any ideas on who might want such an object?”

“Interesting theory - and question,” Samuelson mused. “Must be somebody with a lot of money, which eliminates about half of Kirkwall up front. Can’t say I’ve prosecuted anyone in years who would have that kind of coin.”

“My thoughts exactly. But the poor aren’t the only ones who commit crimes in Kirkwall - the ones with power, money, and influence are often the most crooked.” He glared at Samuelson and Judith in turn.

Samuelson gave a rough bark of laughter. “And you think - what? If you’ve taken it into your pretty head that I’m involved, Lyons, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Public servants don’t get paid well enough for this kind of thing.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” said Falcon, surprising Colin with her sudden tone - placating, almost supplicating, like a stereotypical sitcom wife whose husband just found the credit card bill and is demanding an explanation. “But we thought the two of you would be well-placed to identify anyone of high standing who might know something.”

“Quite the pragmatic suggestion,” Judith drawled, and seemed to deliberately release a puff of smoke in Colin’s direction. “And you’re right - I pride myself on knowing the secrets of this city. But that information doesn’t always come cheap.”

“I do hope you aren’t suggesting some form of bribery, Your Honor,” said Colin.

“I’m sure Judge Stendahl knows you couldn’t afford that, Lyons,” Samuelson replied derisively. “Not with the mouths you have to feed. How is that lovely wife of yours these days, by the by?”

Colin’s cheek twitched. “She’s fine. Although I don’t recall giving you permission to discuss my family, Samuelson. I would suggest you not make that mistake again.”

“I was merely inquiring after her health, not for a play-by-play from your bedroom. Touchy, aren’t you?”

“Now, now, Samuelson,” Judith cut in with a smirk before Colin could even open his mouth. “The good detective is just a little on edge – I’m sure it’s difficult to be in his line of work, being away from his family so often.”

“Likely,” said Falcon mildly. “Perhaps we can return to the issue at hand, so that he’s able to at least get home in time to say good night. Can you think of anyone who could possibly be responsible for this crime against Andraste herself?”

“Well, I can tell you that you're wasting your time here,” the judge replied, snuffing her cigarette in an ashtray made of blood red crystal, probably worth more than Colin made in a week. “We are the Maker’s servants, pillars of righteousness in this city of sinners. Clearly this crime was funded by enemies of the Chantry - try the organized crime bosses or the mob before you darken my door again.”

“As we have noted,” said Falcon, still striving for a pleasant interaction in much the same futile way that a goldfish may strive to turn a doorknob, “the Crows are involved. Is there no one in the upper echelons of society who… fails to compare with your devotion to the Maker?”

Judith chuckled, a cold, slightly haughty sound. “Plenty. But these types of inquiries, Champion…” She tutted. “These are dangerous inquiries.”

“The danger we face can be no greater than that which was faced by our Lady when she did the Maker’s work.” Falcon’s voice was silky with persuasion. “Should we not show the same courage?”

“Indeed we should, Serah Falcon.” The judge’s lips quirked into a grin. “We are not so different, all of us - we’re all trying to purge this city of the wicked. I can get you what you need, if you give me some time. Just tell your pet detective to heel, won’t you?” She nodded to where Colin was grinding his teeth.

“We are _very_ different from you, Your Honor,” he returned venomously.

“Down, boy,” said Falcon, her voice still even. “Any information you can provide us will be useful, Your Honor. We’ll be sure to let the Grand Cleric know how much you assisted the investigation.”

“Of course. We’ll be in touch.” To the DA, she added, “I’m sure between the two of us we can give our… friends… some names, can’t we?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can find something worth knowing.” Samuelson’s smile was sharp, and wrong in a way that was hard to define, like the word _smaragdine_. “We do live to serve, do we not?”

Judith chuckled. “We do indeed.”

Colin gave a derisive snort. “You two are not untouchable, no matter what you may think. When this is over and the necklace is found, you’ll be hearing from me again, mark my words.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to threaten your betters, Lyons?” Samuelson sneered. “You could learn a thing or two from your new partner.”

“Never mind it. Come on, Colin, let’s leave them to their work. Thank you very much for your time; it’s been a delight.” Falcon practically dragged the detective out to the street.

As soon as they were out of the Gallows, Colin pulled his arm from Falcon’s grip. “I look forward to the day I can arrest those two. I will cherish the looks on their faces when I do.”

“You and me both, Colin, but it doesn’t help the investigation to antagonize them before that.” Falcon shook her head. “Believe me, I don’t like them any more than you do. But sometimes you have to put up with horse manure in order to catch flies.”

“A charming turn of phrase, but I get your point,” he grumbled. “With any luck, they’ll have something we can use and this will be over soon.”

“That’s the spirit.” She looked at her watch, and chuckled. “I feel like a parent waiting up for a child who’s being allowed to stay out past curfew. I hope Connie and your partner are all right.”

Colin likewise managed a chuckle, looking a touch more at ease. “There’s nothing to worry about, Eric will take good care of her. I’m sure they’re fine.”

* * *

Constance and Eric were not fine, however. Not entirely. The footsteps Constance identified had not let up and she gripped Eric’s arm warily.

“It’s okay, Sunshine,” he muttered. He was wearing a bulletproof vest; she wasn’t. He needed to get them close to a wall so he could stand in front of her if necessary, and pray to whoever was listening that their pursuers wouldn’t think to aim for his head. “Just keep walking. Not much farther to the car.”

She nodded, trying not to look as tense as she felt. “To the car. Right. And what if they follow us after that?”

He thought a little. “There’s a tunnel leading out to Sundermount,” he said. “I should be able to lose them on the mountain.”

“All right. I trust you. And perhaps we’ll get lucky and they’ll just turn out to be regular drunken ruffians and nothing more.”

“Keep thinking that. Optimism isn’t my strong suit.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The words had no sooner left her lips when behind them a long, low whistle could be heard. “Leaving so soon?” called a voice.

Eric turned around slowly, subtly shifting himself between Constance and the speaker. “Some things just can’t wait,” he said idly. “If she were with you, you’d want to get her home too.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt.” The stranger chuckled, a sound like nails on a chalkboard. “But my desires are not so provincial… well, for the most part. You didn’t make it easy to find you, I’ll say that much - clever you, leaving Hightown. Or perhaps not so clever now.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed, staring a hole through the weirdo’s head. He had a slimy, ill-favored look, like something that had crawled out of the Undercity and demanded sentience. He needed to crawl back down there. “Not sure why you’re following me. Did you want an autograph maybe?”

“I have no interest in _you_ whatsoever,” the man said, pointing at Eric. He then turned his attention to Constance. “ _You_ , on the other hand… why do I get the feeling you’re just who we’ve been looking for?”

“Can’t imagine why you’d think that.” Eric was as cool and calm as he could manage under the circumstances. “I somehow doubt you’re looking to get in trouble with Judge Stendahl by threatening her favorite niece, now, are you?” He concocted the lie quickly.

“I’m not threatening anyone - not yet, anyway. I think I’d like to enjoy the view for a little while.” He peered past Eric at Constance. “But how rude of me, I haven’t introduced myself yet. Lucifer Edmunds of Vyrantium, at your service.” He executed a gentleman’s bow, but he was certainly no gentleman, and the comments that escaped his mouth next would have been considered impolite even at the Blooming Rose.

Eric was, for a few seconds, merely frozen in shock at the utter _filth_ which poured from the degenerate’s mouth. Then, behind him, he heard the sharp intake of breath, followed by a tiny sound which might possibly have indicated that Constance was close to tears. For whatever reason (and he was not about to question it), that was all it took. Before he could think better of it, he watched his thick fist collide with Edmunds’s face.

With a yelp of pain and shock, Edmunds flew backward, sprawling at the feet of the goons who had been flanking him. They scrambled to offer him assistance, which he shook off roughly as he hoisted himself up of his own accord. “Oh, you will pay for that!” he barked, running a hand across his split lip. To his associates, he bellowed, “Well, what are you waiting for? Kill them!”

But before the goons could even draw their weapons, several other shots rang out and Edmunds’s men were left moaning in the shadows. Edmunds himself fumbled for a gun, until a new speaker cut him off. “Now, now,” scolded the voice, which had a quality like fine velvet, “put away your silly toys before you make yourself look any more foolish than you already have, yes?”

“You’re under arrest. On your knees,” said Eric, grateful for the interruption which had bought him enough time to draw his own gun. He pointed the weapon at Edmunds’s face, his eyes gleaming a taunt as the villain glowered at him from his place on the garage floor. Eric didn’t particularly care; if he weren’t on the job, he might have kicked the bastard while he was down. Since their new friend was on hand to keep an eye on things, he risked glancing at Constance. “Are you okay?”

To say Constance looked shaken was an understatement. Her eyes were a bit wide, as if it would take her a little while to convince them to stop revealing just how shocked she was, and she reached out to hold his arm in an effort to steady herself. But she nodded nevertheless. “I’m fine,” she told him. “Or at least I will be. Promise me you won’t tell my sister?”

“Sure, but why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh, I know. But I don’t think I want her to hear it either way. Besides, she’ll probably try to cut the bastard’s tongue out if she does, so it’s probably better if this stays our little secret.”

He chuckled, cuffing Edmunds. “Fair enough, Sunshine. Let me just call for some backup to haul these fools away. While I do that, Edmunds, I don’t suppose you’d care to give us some intel as to who sent you? Might go easier for you if you sing now.”

Edmunds scoffed. “Your petty justice means nothing to me! The man I work for will make you all pay soon enough.”

From where he loomed above the criminal, their new ally merely huffed. “Tevinters like you are the reason we _all_ get a bad reputation in the south,” he said. Twirling his gun, he glanced over at Eric. “Are you sure I can’t just shoot him?”

“Believe me, I’m tempted to let you. But he might be useful, and I’m sort of supposed to avoid killing people if I can help it. You know how it is.” He shrugged. “Thanks for the timely intervention, Mr…?”

“Ah, getting ahead of myself as usual. The name is Pavone. Damian Pavone, most recently of Minrathous.” He reached up to tip his hat to them both.

“Eric Varras, Kirkwall PD. This is… well, we’ll go over that. What brings you here, though?”

“What brings anyone to a city like Kirkwall?” he mused, his mustache quirking slightly. “I’m here because I’ve heard about this missing holy relic of yours, and I have information you might find useful. Besides, an extra trigger finger never goes amiss - and since leaving my homeland I’ve become something of a vigilante. I can help you both.”

“Ordinarily I’d view a claim like that with a lot more suspicion,” Eric admitted, “but you did just save us so that’s in your favor. Once the boys in blue come and pick up these piles of dirt, we’ll take a drive and you can fill us in on what you know.” He glanced at Constance again. “I’ll just be over here making the call.”

She nodded, giving him a faint smile. “Go on, I’ll be all right.” She gave his arm a squeeze before releasing it. “Oh, and… thank you for throwing that punch.”

Not quite sure how to respond, he just winked at her before taking a few steps away to call for backup. Fortunately, Captain Hendallen was not one for wasting time, and the flashing lights pulled up to the garage in very short order. Too short, even; Eric couldn’t help suspecting that she’d somehow been keeping tabs on things. She was like a mother hen in some ways, clucking and squawking but always keeping an eye on the good eggs.

Within minutes, Edmunds and his goons were being bundled none too gently into the waiting squad cars, Edmunds still blathering about the glorious plans of his mysterious boss. The captain took in the entire scene, her eyes moving quickly to study the face of all those assembled. “What happened?” she asked simply.

“Honestly, Captain, I’m not completely sure I know the answer.” Eric gave her a succinct rundown of events, concluding with introductions. “We’ve got to go find Curly and your friend; maybe they’ve found something by now. Either that or we go deeper into hiding,” he added.

She sighed, shaking her head. “I have a feeling this goes deeper than we originally suspected,” she said grimly. “Keep me posted. Carry on.”

* * *

Several minutes later, the three unlikely allies were in Eric’s car and heading back toward Hightown. “So what do you know about all this?” he asked Damian.

“I’ve heard whispers,” he said, “and seen more than a few roving pockets of rogues like Edmunds and his lot - they’re all part of a gang known as the Venatori. As a Tevinter who is proud of my nation’s history and believes in what she can become under the proper guidance, I find the world a better place every time I can help there be one less Venatori in it. Hence this.” He indicated his gun. “Now, as for this necklace - does the name Corey Phillips mean anything to you?”

Eric frowned, peering into the darkness as he drove, and shook his head. “No. Should it?”

“Yes. From what I can gather, he’s wrapped up in this whole plot. He may even be at the heart of it. What I can’t figure out is why…” Damian’s voice trailed off in frustration for a moment. “What I do know is that one of his closest associates - a woman by the name of Callista Bond - is here in Kirkwall.”

“Now that name _does_ ring a bell,” said the detective. “She’s… let me think… right, she’s the receptionist at the Gallows. Works with Judge Stendahl and the rest of those types. Probably a bit late for her to be working, though,” he added. “Maybe we should lay low until morning and look for her then.”

“I bow to your opinion in this matter, detective, but I would just remind you time is of the essence,” said Damian. “To you, she may just be the woman behind the desk at an office, but she has more power and influence in this gang than she would have you know. Regardless, whenever you talk to her, I would like to be there - I’ve come a long way to help stem this tide and I don’t intend to stop now.”

“Fair enough, but you realize it’s close to midnight? We were at that club longer than I realized,” Eric added, glancing at Constance. She looked tired, he thought. “I have no idea where to find this Bond dame outside of business hours, hence my laying low suggestion. Sunshine, you think you’ll feel safe enough to sleep if we take you home? Set up camp in the house?”

She nodded. “I think after the night we’ve had, going home sounds like just the thing.”

Damian likewise nodded, catching the drift of the conversation. “Of course. My apologies to the lady. I’ve grown too accustomed to working on my own, it seems - kicking down doors, shooting first, not stopping to ask questions. But if we’re working together for a common cause, I will try to be more mindful of my allies in the future.”

“My orders for the night are to make sure nothing happens to the lady,” Eric explained. “I’m assuming that includes collapsing from exhaustion. If I have to sit up all night to play bodyguard, that’s fine.”

Constance smiled at that, weary but evidently grateful. “Thank you, Eric. I feel safer already.” She reached over to squeeze his knee as he drove.

Eric parked the car a few blocks from the Falcon residence and, after helping Constance out of the vehicle, took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Just in case word got out that you’re wearing red, this’ll hide it a little,” he explained. “Besides, it’s turned cold.”

“Oh, this is just what I needed, thank you.” She smiled. “Such a gentleman.”

“I try.” He pointedly ignored what he suspected might be a snicker coming from Damian’s direction. “Come on, let’s get you home so you can rest.”

They made the walk to the house in relative silence. Colin had, of course, long since gone home to be with his family, but Falcon was still awake and waiting for them to return. She looked up when they entered, something like relief crossing her face. “Connie, I…” She paused, her gaze sliding to Damian. “Who’s this?”

“It’s okay, Falcon, he’s on our side.” Eric explained the situation. “So we’ve got a few of the bastards in custody, at least,” he concluded, “and I figured it was best to let the poor kid get some sleep in her own bed before we started chasing down this receptionist.”

She shook her head. “Damn, if only I had known… we were two feet away from her. Ah, well. I’m glad you brought Connie back here, she’s probably exhausted.” Constance shrugged slightly in a way that confirmed the statement. “Thank you for keeping her safe tonight.”

“No problem. I hope you had a good time, Sunshine,” he added. “Once you’re set up for bed, I’ll take watch outside your door.”

“All right. I shouldn’t be long.” She handed him his jacket. “Oh, and for what it’s worth, I did have a good time. A very good time.” With one last charming look over her shoulder, she disappeared to go get herself ready.

The girl probably broke half a dozen hearts just by walking to and from Chantry services, Eric decided, rubbing the back of his neck. It was going to take some effort to avoid joining the pile. “So what did you and Curly find while we were gone?” he asked, glancing at Falcon.

“Not a whole hell of a lot, unfortunately. We managed to get a little research in about this ‘Crow venom’, and we spoke briefly to the DA and Judge Stendahl. That went about as well as you’d probably expect.”

“I’m sure you had tea and crumpets and talked about your flower gardens. So… nothing, huh?”

“Basically. Everyone threatened each other in the nicest possible way, and the judge promised she and Samuelson would get us a list of names. I doubt they’ll be helpful names, but we’ll see.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “So other than picking up a stray Vint and clubbing some goons, what else did you and Connie do to pass the time?”

“Eh, she wanted to dance, so we danced a little. Talked. The bartender thought she was pretty, I offered to give him her number.” Eric shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “That’s about it.”

Falcon smirked. “Yeah, people often think Constance’s pretty, so I’m not surprised. Sounds like you two had an interesting evening.”

“It was all right. She seemed to enjoy it, which is more than can usually be said for these protective details.” He was trying to stick to the facts without mentioning _all_ the facts, sort of like a kid who didn’t technically get caught with his hand in the cookie jar but is pretty sure everybody knows he was pinching extra snickerdoodles.

“Mm, yes. My sister doesn’t usually smile at people like that, so I’d say she enjoyed it indeed.” Miriam Falcon was the type of dame who would make you confess to her, even if she saw the pilfered cookies right in your hand, so she merely smirked at the detective, looking amused.

“She’s a sweet kid.” Eric decided that was the safest place to leave it. Falcon didn’t need to know the details of his interactions with Constance, and he had promised not to tell her much besides; he could stretch that promise to cover more than it actually entailed. A king-size bed shouldn’t be made up with queen-size sheets, but sometimes you just have to make do.

“Mmhmm, that’s what I tell people,” she said, still smirking.

A second later, the ‘sweet kid’ in question came back into the room, running a brush through her natural hair, which was now free from its synthetic blonde prison. “Thank you for waiting,” Constance said to the detective. “Sorry to keep you.”

“No problem. You just let me know when you’re ready to head up and I’ll take position outside.” He paused, thinking. “The window locks from the inside, right?”

She nodded. “They should be high enough up that they can’t be broken from the ground either. At least, I hope.”

“You never know, Sunshine. Crows can fly. I’ll go in ahead of you and just check everything first, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine, but be careful, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She looked mildly concerned, before turning to say goodnight to her sister and Damian.

“Don’t worry about me - this is my job,” he assured her. Ignoring any sort of look either of the others might be giving him, Eric followed Constance upstairs and entered the room she indicated. Neatly kept, he noted; the walls were adorned with sketches he suspected were of the girl’s own making. He examined the window carefully. “Looks secure enough. Just gonna bolt this real tight. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.”

She nodded, giving him a smile. “Good, I’m glad. And if _you_ need anything while you’re waiting - a drink or something, maybe - Bodahn should be around here somewhere, he can get you what you need. Good night, then.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Uh. Good night,” he managed. He needed to nip this in the bud, he knew… but he was surprised at just how much he didn’t _want_ to nip it in the bud. He stumbled out into the hallway and sat down on a nearby chair, trying to collect his thoughts.

For a long time, all was quiet. Falcon went to bed; the manservant Bodahn came and went intermittently, occasionally bringing Eric a cup of coffee or pastry; Damian took a post in the upper library, within shouting distance. All seemed well. Eric almost dozed off.

And then he heard it.

It was very subtle - a faint scratch, like a pencil tracing over a sheet of paper - but his senses were instantly on the alert. His gun found its way into his hand without his really knowing how, and by the time he had the bedroom door open, he was completely awake and furiously, incomprehensibly angry.

The room was still - almost eerily so - and looked untouched... but there was a sensation of movement, like the feeling when a portrait’s eyes seem to follow you as you walk. Sure enough, lurking in the shadows was one of the Crow assassins, his face obscured by a mask. Constance was still asleep, but she awoke as Eric opened the door and blinked in confusion. “Eric? What…?”

“Don’t move, Sunshine,” he rasped, pointing his gun at the darkness. “All right, bird, start singing. You have five seconds before I pull the trigger.”

Constance recoiled at the sudden sound of the strange man’s voice, which was low and heavily Antivan accented. “What is there to say, my friend? You’ve been warned by the Crows to let this matter drop and still you persist. I’m almost a little impressed.”

“I’m a cop. It’s kind of what we do.” Eric moved to shield Constance from view. “Now, nobody has to die here. You tell me what you know and I’ll make sure they go easy on you.”

“You mean that my options consist of being arrested or crawling back to my very unsympathetic fellows? What a generous offer,” the assassin said dryly.

“You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m not letting you kill anybody here. You turn state’s evidence,” Eric continued, “and I’ll see what I can do to help you.”

The assassin pondered that, resting his weapon as he did so. Constance took the opportunity to scramble from the bed and make her way to Eric’s side instead. “Hmm…” said the Crow at last. “I suppose the best way to evade my fellow Crows is to see them carted off like the criminals they are. Very well, I will help you - but you do know you are playing with forces far beyond a missing relic and some guns for hire, yes?”

“I figured that was the case. But this has gotten bigger than me or anyone else.” Eric shrugged. “For all I know, eternity’s at stake. Let’s just say I’m not comfortable taking chances. Now, just what’s going on?” He paused and glanced up as both Damian and Falcon came on the run to see what was going on; it seemed that they’d been louder than he realized. He gestured to the Crow and remarked, “Caught something.”

“‘Something?’ My dear man, I may be an assassin, but I am not without dignity. Zane Asturian is the name, and I hope you understand this is nothing personal.”

* * *

Falcon was clearly livid that the assassin had found his way into the house in the first place, but she let him say his piece. In addition to having the names of the other Crows who had participated in the heist, he confirmed Damian’s thinking that this mysterious Corey Phillips had hired the Crows in the first place.

“I don’t know much about this Bond woman,” said Asturian when he had finished his own description and listened to them speak, “or any of these other people you suspect may be involved. But if she can lead you to Corey Phillips, you would be wise to speak to her.”

“Good, we’re on the right track,” said Falcon irritably. “I’ll go call Captain Hendallen to come and collect… him. Nothing personal,” she added in a voice that fell on the ears like acid. “I always act like this toward men who sneak into my baby sister’s bedroom with ill intent.”

“I would expect nothing less, serah,” Asturian replied, bowing deeply. He turned to Constance. “For what it’s worth, you seem a decent girl - I’m almost pleased I failed. You’re very lucky your detective friend was on hand, my dear woman.”

“Just doing my job,” Eric replied gruffly. “Falcon, does this house have any windowless rooms? Maybe that’s a better plan for the rest of the night.”

“The library might be the best bet for that. I can find a sleeping bag,” said Falcon. “Besides, the wine’s in there - and after the day we’ve had…”

“I’ve already imbibed more tonight than I should while on the job, but I won’t begrudge the rest of you.” He sighed. “At least Curly’s getting some sleep.”

“Theoretically, at least - his daughter may have other plans. But that’s a much better way to spend the evening, I’m sure.” Falcon also sighed. She reached out to squeeze Constance’s shoulder. “Hopefully this will all be over soon.”

“I’ll call the captain, Falcon. You girls go on into the library and get comfortable.” Eric paused and, catching sight of Constance’s bathrobe draped on a nearby chair, picked it up with his free hand and passed it to her.

“Oh, oh, thank you.” She wrapped herself in the garment, as if taking comfort from the fabric. Then, after a moment, she seized Eric in a fierce hug. “If you hadn’t realized something was wrong… just… thank you.”

“Uh… yeah… you’re welcome, Sunshine. All in a day’s work.” In all his years of assigning nicknames, he’d never given anyone such an accurate one. Shame it didn’t pay anything; he could retire on that accomplishment. He watched the sisters leave the room while pulling out his phone, leaving Damian to monitor the intruder until he finished his call.

Since his objective was an obvious failure, Asturian was a model prisoner, making Damian’s job not all that challenging. Thus, the Tevinter waited until Eric returned from the other room and he smirked at the detective slightly. It seemed now that the lady was out of danger, he could allow himself to find some amusement in Eric’s obvious befuddlement. “You look puzzled,” he remarked idly.

“Puzzled? No. Just trying to solve this case in my head, that’s all.”

“Oh, so a certain lovely young woman dubbed ‘Sunshine’ is _not_ vexing you. I apologize, my mistake.” The smirk remained on the vigilante’s face.

“Why would she be ‘vexing’ me?” Eric eyed him, not liking where this could go but recognizing that he didn’t have much choice but to let the chips fall and try to clean up afterward.

“I may not know any of you very well, but I do have eyes, my friend. I can see the smoldering looks flying around when you two are in close proximity - and I can see it’s weighing on you.”

“Smo-what? Andraste’s ass, you sound like my partner.”

“This partner of yours sounds like a smart man.” Damian chuckled. “If you won’t take my word for it, take his - there is most definitely a spark between you and the young lady. A certain _je ne sais quoi_ , to coin the Orlesian turn of phrase.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Eric replied flatly. “And I don’t want to know.”

“Suit yourself, friend. Suit yourself.”

* * *

In light of the previous evening’s madness, Falcon opted to stay with her sister as Eric and Damian met Colin the next morning to find this Callista Bond dame. Eric introduced the Tevinter and the younger detective to each other, as well as briefing the latter on what had happened in his absence.

“Maker’s breath,” Colin said, his eyes wide as the tale concluded. “I’m glad everyone’s all right.”

“For a given value of ‘all right,’ anyway,” said Eric. He was still a bit angry about what had almost happened to Constance on his watch, and the lack of sleep wasn’t sweetening his temper any. “Poor kid was still pretty shaken up when we left this morning.”

“I imagine so.” Colin shook his head in sympathy. “At least we have this lead to follow - maybe we’re one step closer to ending this. I’m still convinced that Judge Stendahl and Samuelson have _something_ to do with the theft, but we’ll see what Miss Bond can tell us about this Corey Phillips for now.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

The Falcon estate was barely a stone’s throw from the Viscount’s Keep where police headquarters was based, but to return to the Gallows was a serious trek. They stopped for coffee (at Eric’s insistence) before making their way to the receptionist’s desk. She was a prim, mousy thing, with dull brassy hair in braids and a dour look in her eyes. “Miss Bond, we were hoping you could assist us with our investigation.”

Callista Bond’s lip twitched in something like irritation and she heaved a put-upon sigh. “Back again, are we, gentlemen? With a friend this time, I see.” She glanced in Damian’s direction before turning back towards Colin and Eric. “You truly expect I have something to say that Master Samuelson and Judge Stendahl haven’t already said?”

“Well, we’ve had a tip that may or may not be at all related to them,” Eric explained, “but the tipper in question suggested you might have some inside information. Do you know a man by the name of Phillips? Corey Phillips?”

Her spine appeared to stiffen ever so slightly, but her facial expression remained the same. “I know the name, of course - I’m Tevinter and he owns a very successful business there. I did an internship for the company when I was at university. But I’d hardly say I ‘know’ him.”

“What line of business is he in? He’s not commonly known in the Marches.”

“Biotechnology and pharmaceuticals. My only purpose in life is not simply shuffling papers and fetching the judge her coffee, you know,” the woman said tersely. “I studied to be a chemist.”

“Shame Kirkwall doesn’t offer much in the way of job opportunities in that line,” said Eric mildly. “But anyway, our source appears to think that he might have some connection to all of this, and we were hoping you’d have some kind of scoop. Can you tell us anything about him that might help?”

“Master Phillips is a visionary,” she insisted. “The work his company is doing will help countless people in Tevinter. To say he has anything to do with this crime is simply preposterous - clearly deceit put forth by his enemies.”

Behind them, Damian let out a bark of bitter laughter.

“You want to weigh in, Sparkler?” Eric asked.

“I - _Sparkler_?” he repeated, but merely sighed and shook it off in order to circle back to his original point. “It’s just that I can’t help but take umbrage with that rosy view of things back home. I don’t know if your time working for the company gives you a particular blind spot, Miss Bond, or if you’ve just been away from Tevinter for too long, but Corey Phillips is hardly a visionary and his company is hardly a paragon of virtue.”

“Which makes him quite the likely prospect for being behind all of this.” Eric nodded. “Means and probable opportunity. Well, we’ve wasted enough of the lady’s time. Thank you for humoring us, and if you get the opportunity, please remind Judge Stendahl that we could use her list of names as soon as she has the chance to cobble it together for us.”

Callista, who somehow managed to look both suspicious of and vaguely scandalized by Damian’s words, seemed hardly able to nod. But she did so, watching the men as they turned to leave.

“Anybody got any bright ideas?” Eric muttered, squinting as they walked out into the sunlight. He felt tired and heavy, like a sack of potatoes that had been weighted down with another sack of potatoes and left to rot.

“You go get some sleep?” Damian suggested. “I’m sure Miss Constance is safe with her sister, so your bodyguard services probably won’t be required. In the interim, I can do a little more digging on Corey Phillips and his company.”

“I want to argue the point, but I’m not gonna be of any use to anyone the way I feel right now.” Eric sighed and rubbed his face. “All right. I’ll go home and try not to get shot in my sleep.”

“Why don’t you come to my house?” Colin suggested. “That way you have someone around to make sure you don’t get shot in your sleep.”

“I can’t put Ev and the kids in danger like that. These people are after us now, don’t forget… we should ask the captain to put a protective detail on your family. Again.”

“You’re probably right. Maker’s breath, all this over a necklace.”

Eric rubbed the spot between his eyes, where a headache was trying to form. “Maybe we can just put them all in one place together, reduce the needed manpower,” he mused. “Let’s ask Falcon about it and see what she thinks. I’ll sleep once this is settled.”

“No, no, I can take care of this, you sleep,” Colin insisted. “Maybe we should all go to Falcon’s place for now, if she doesn't object, that way no one of us is alone.”

“Well, if the elder Falcon doesn't object, I'm sure the younger one most certainly won't,” said Damian, his lips folding in a barely suppressed smile as he glanced at Eric.

“I suppose you’re right.” At this point, Eric was too tired to even pretend to argue. He allowed himself to be herded into the waiting vehicle and driven back to the Falcon estate, waiting while Colin explained things to the ladies.

Once the detective had told his tale, Falcon immediately nodded. “Of course you can set up camp here. We can use the library for that research Damian wants to do.” To her sister, she added, “Connie, why don’t you show Eric to one of the guest rooms?”

“Of course.” Constance turned towards Eric. “You stood guard for me, now I can do the same for you.”

He chuckled wearily. “You’re not standing guard over me. But the bed would be appreciated.”

“Oh really? And who’s going to stop me?” she said teasingly, taking his arm. “Come on, let’s get you settled. You look exhausted, you poor thing.”

Eric’s expression for the others was so laughably bewildered, even in its fatigue, that Falcon was hard-pressed not to laugh until he was out of earshot. “Is he always this awkward around girls?” she asked Colin teasingly.

“Not usually,” Colin said, and couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, this is nothing compared to the way I interacted with my wife when I first met her, but it is pretty rare for Eric, I can tell you that.”

 “I would say there’s probably a reason for that,” Damian remarked quietly, smirking.

“Well, yes.” Colin laughed.

“Don’t worry, he’ll figure it out soon if he hasn’t already.” Falcon smirked. “Connie can be very un-subtle if she feels it’s necessary.”

“Then I suppose we shall see what happens,” said Damian. “For now, though, I believe the three of us have some work to do.”

“Right. Colin, you go collect your family and bring them back here; Damian, maybe you’d better go along to keep an eye on things.” Falcon looked thoughtful. “I’ll get Bodahn to ready a room, and call to have some extra groceries delivered.”

“An excellent plan all around,” said Damian, his hand resting on the gun at his waist. “Everyone be careful, yes?”

“Definitely. I’ll call the captain while you two are gone,” Falcon added, “and keep her informed. If she wants to send a couple extra boys in blue to keep an eye on things, that’s her call.”

Meanwhile, Constance led Eric upstairs to one of the house’s many guest rooms. “I think this should do nicely,” she told him, opening the door. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Thanks, Sunshine, but I’ll be fine. If I can just get in two or three hours, it’ll help.” He shook his head, putting his gun and badge and hat on the bedside table and shrugging off his jacket. “You just keep your nose clean in the meantime.”

“I think I can handle that. Hopefully.” She chuckled and sat down in a chair across the room, crossing her legs delicately as she did so.

He was trying not to look, he really was, but she had long legs like her sister and they tended to demand attention. “You’re going to watch me sleep?” he yawned, playing it cool. “Don’t you want a book or something?”

“I’ll be fine. I enjoy the quiet - it gives me a chance to think.”

“Your call.” He took off his shoes so he wouldn’t dirty the bed, and rolled his shirtsleeves to the elbows. This accomplished, he all but pitched sideways onto the pillow and was out in minutes.

Constance couldn’t help but chuckle softly. For such a world-weary man, Eric looked almost peaceful now, and it only endeared him to her farther. She hated this entire dirty business with the tourmaline necklace, but she enjoyed spending time with the detective and she saw no need to deny it. Rising from the chair on quiet feet, she crossed the room to pull the blankets up around him before returning to her seat once more.

* * *

Colin and Damian returned a little over an hour later, with Colin’s wife and two children. “You’re kind to have us all hide out here,” Evelyn told Falcon, once the introductions had been made. “I’m looking forward to all of this being over, Colin tries so hard not to mix work and home and he has so much trouble separating them sometimes.”

“It’s the least I can do, Mrs. Lyons,” Falcon said, shaking the other woman’s hand. “Your husband and his partner are protecting my sister, so I’m happy to return the favor. Hopefully we’re nearing the end of this whole debacle.”

“I hope so. And please, call me Evelyn. Can I do anything to help while we’re here?” She shifted little Ella in her arms; Nicolas had already settled down by the fireplace with a book.

“You’re very kind to offer, but as long as you’re here, think of yourselves as my guests,” said Falcon. “Your primary job is staying safe.”

“I’ll do my best.” Evelyn chuckled, but she looked seriously at Colin. “You just be careful. All of you. Eric’s asleep?”

“Yes. He had quite the night last night after I went home, so we insisted he sleep before we do anything else. Falcon’s sister Constance went to watch over him.”

“Interesting. I thought you said _he_ was watching _her_.”

“He was.” Colin smiled faintly. “It seems like the tables have turned a bit. Never thought I’d see anyone get under Eric’s skin like this, honestly.”

“Oh my.” She laughed. “This I have to see. All right, let me get Ella’s playpen set up over here by Nicolas.”

Colin came over to take their daughter as Evelyn set to the task. “I hate that you all have to be involved in this,” he muttered, stroking the little girl’s cheek. “The sooner we get details on this Tevinter businessman, the better.”

She responded with a small string of syllables, which was about all anyone could expect of someone so tiny. Nicolas, however, looked up from his book. “It’s good that we’re here,” he said. “Now you can find this man without worrying about us.”

“That is very true, my boy.” Colin smiled. “I’ve been so worried about all of you since this entire case began. Knowing you’re here with Falcon and a few officers will go a long way to easing my mind.” Of course, he wouldn’t completely unstiffen until Divine Rosamund’s necklace was back where it belonged, but it was a start.

* * *

Eric wasn’t sure what woke him; he supposed it didn’t matter. He had gotten a little sleep, wiped the worst of the cobwebs from his brain; coffee could sustain him for the rest. He blinked, pushing back the blanket which had been laid over him, and sat up slowly. “Any news?” he grumbled.

“There he is,” Constance said warmly, the sound of Eric’s voice drawing her back out of the haze of her own thoughts. “You haven’t missed very much - I think Colin’s family has arrived from the sound of things, as well as a few officers. Otherwise, nothing new, I suspect.”

“No news is good news, at least sometimes. You didn’t have to sit here the whole time.”

“I know. But I wanted to make sure you were all right.” She smiled slightly. “It’s like I told you at Adamant - other people are always taking risks for my sake, it’s the least I can do to try and repay that.”

He gave a weak sort of dry chuckle. “You don’t owe me anything. I do this for a living, you know.”

“Even so, I owe you my life a few times over by this point. Job or not, that means something to me.” Her eyes grew cloudy for a moment. “My life must be extremely valuable for all the times people have given up their own health and safety for my sake.”

Eric paused, and frowned. “You’ve been through something like this before?”

“Nothing exactly like this, but… you may remember me mentioning my father and my brother. They’re both dead because they wanted to protect my sister and me. Too many people sacrifice too much on my behalf - I don’t want you to do the same. I don’t think I could stand another person doing that.”

“I went into this line of work knowing that was a possibility,” he replied gently. “I don’t know a better cause, really. I promise I’ll try not to die, but that’s the best I can do. What’s more important is that we keep you and the Curly clan safe until this whole necklace business is patched up.”

“And when it is?” she asked softly. “When this whole business is indeed patched up, where does that leave… things?”

“Well, you’ll have a lot fewer houseguests.” He was trying to pretend that he didn't know what she might be implying, and that his stomach wasn’t flipping over about it. “Don’t know if that’s to your liking or not, but it’ll be quieter and you’ll have your life back.”

“Well, quieter _will_ be nice - Crows not trying to kill me will be delightful. But I’ll miss some of the houseguests,” she said, biting her lip slightly. “And I still want a second dance at a certain club with a certain faithful bodyguard of mine.”

Eric had the uncomfortable feeling that saying _no_ to this girl was not part of his skill set, sort of like looking at tools in shop class and having no idea what a ratchet does. However, as he watched the afternoon daylight playing on her skin, he dimly noted that maybe he didn’t mind too much. “Tell you what. You keep your pretty face out of harm’s way,” he found himself saying, “and I’ll make sure you get a second dance.”

“I think that sounds like a fair deal.” She smiled. “You make sure you stay safe too and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Trust me, I doubt they think I’m worth the trouble. You, however, are, so sit tight.” He put himself together. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the squatters.”

* * *

With Constance and the Lyons family safely installed under the watchful eyes of Falcon and a few of Kirkwall’s finest, Colin, Eric, and Damian went to the police barracks to see what leads they could chase. The last thing they were expecting was for the lead to come to them.

“Woman here to see you,” said one of the rookies, poking her head into the room where they sat discussing the case. “Says she has information.”

“Falcon?” Eric guessed.

The rookie shook her head. “No, blonde woman with looped braids. Got a gap in her teeth.”

Colin and Damian exchanged a look of confusion. “Callista Bond?” Damian said in disbelief.

“Callista Bond,” said a new voice, calmly. The woman herself stood on the threshold, giving them all the unconcerned sort of glare that a cow gives to an oncoming billy goat. “I decided to talk.”

“Just… like that?” said Colin, his notepad already in his hand.

“I half expected you were coming here to tell us to die in the void,” Damian remarked. “What’s changed?”

“One doesn’t easily turn on a man as powerful as Corey Phillips - or a woman like Judith Stendahl,” she replied. “But things are getting too intense. I need to get out of the situation. I’m thinking if I help you, you’ll help me.”

“Of course,” said Colin. “If you give us the information we need, we can make sure you’re protected.”

“Besides, I can tell how much you care about Tevinter,” Damian added. “Corey Phillips doesn’t have the country’s best interest at heart like you do - you don’t need to protect him when you could do what he cannot.”

For the first time, Callista’s expression held something other than disdain. “I want to go home,” she said, “but I may not be safe there either. You guarantee me safe passage to Nevarra and I’ll figure things out from there. In return, I’ll give you everything I’ve got.”

Colin glanced at Eric. “I think we can arrange that. We’ll speak to our captain when this is over, but I’m almost certain she’ll agree. And you have my word we’ll do everything in our power to see to it.”

Seeing Eric nod, Callista did likewise. “It’s like this,” she said. “I’ve been working for the judge… _and_ Phillips. He wanted to get an inside perspective here in the Marches because he wants to expand his company. I figured that was reasonable enough, and what’s good for his company is good for Tevinter. He’s the one who hired the Crows to steal the relic, after I told him it was here. He wants to ransom it.” She sighed. “Here’s the thing. Judge Stendahl has always known he was responsible. I told him it was here, and he approached her about a deal. She gave him all the intel about where it was kept and how the Crows could help.”

“I knew she was involved somehow!” Colin spat.

“A deal, you say,” Damian put in. “What kind of deal? A quid pro quo - ‘you tell me about the necklace, you get a cut of the profits’?”

“Basically. What he doesn’t know, though, is that she’s got Samuelson tracking down the necklace too,” Callista replied. “He’s going to steal it back for her so she can make it appear that _she_ found it - not you - and be the hero of the day.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “She’s a fool if she thinks Phillips won’t just have the Crows take her out. He never had any intention of giving her any of the money. But once I heard about her plan to double-cross him, I knew I had to get out of there before I become collateral damage.”

“Maker’s breath, it’s _all_ of them.” Colin blinked. “They’re _all_ involved.” To Callista, he added, “You were wise to get out when you did - I’m sure we don’t have to tell you how dangerous they are.”

“Up to this point I thought I was doing the right thing just staying put and keeping quiet. I’m supposed to get a good position with Phillips’s company - guess that’s not happening now.” She groaned. “They were both using me. I can’t believe I was so blind.”

“Not blind,” said Damian, “Perhaps a bit too trusting, but not blind. Even without Corey Phillips and his company, you can be the type of reformer Tevinter needs. There are plenty of us who believe Tevinter has potential.”

“I’ll write down everything I know about where the necklace is and when Samuelson plans to steal it,” she said, casting a somewhat grateful look in his direction. “With any luck, you can take down the whole lot of them.”

“Thank you, Miss Bond,” said Colin, giving her a nod. To his companions, he added, “Gracious Andraste, this could all be over _and_ we could finally take down Samuelson and Stendahl.”

“You’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” Eric teased him. “Your chance is coming, Curly.”

“Thank the Maker. Two fewer criminals in Kirkwall - I know it’s not much in a city like ours, but it’s a start.”

“More than that, I’d say,” Damian interjected. “The good judge probably could have parlayed the successful restoration of the relic into something much more - such as even more power and influence than she already has. Same with Corey Phillips. This could have done irreparable damage.”

“Not to mention the innocent lives that could have been caught in the crossfire,” Eric added.

“Yes.” Colin shook his head. “Well, I’ll speak to Captain Hendallen, let her know what’s going on. Do you know where Corey Phillips is now?” This last remark was addressed to Callista.

“On his way here, if the schedule I was given is still accurate. He expected to reach the city on Friday.”

“We’ll be waiting for him then. And once you’re safely out of Kirkwall, we’ll pay Judith and Samuelson a visit as well.”

“Phillips expects to take the necklace Friday night at this location. From what Judith said, Samuelson expects to get there ahead of him.” She wrote down an address.

“That’s what he expects, but it’s funny how things don’t go according to plan, isn’t it?” Damian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Permission to come along when you take these cretins down? I think it would give me a great deal of satisfaction to see one of Tevinter’s corrupt elite brought low.”

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you out, Sparkler,” Eric assured him. “Got to make it a proper party, right?”

“My thoughts exactly,” the vigilante agreed. “And when this is all over, we can all have an _actual_ party.”


	16. The Tourmaline Trap, Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to come! Find out what Varric's editor thinks about all of this.

Eric was frankly suspicious about the lack of attempts to break into the Falcon estate between their meeting with Callista and the expected rendezvous on Friday. “I don’t get it. The Crows have been doing their best to make life miserable for everybody concerned,” he said at breakfast on Friday morning. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but why haven’t they made another strike at any of us?”

“Perhaps they’ve been deterred by the police presence here?” Colin suggested. “Or maybe they’re so certain we’re on the wrong track that they’ve decided we aren’t worth their effort.”

“Or maybe they’re trying to lull us into a false sense of security and they’re going to spring a horrible trap tonight.”

“What a cheering thought,” said Damian dryly.

“Yes, please don’t mention that when my wife comes downstairs,” said Colin, glancing anxiously behind him to make sure she hadn’t appeared without his knowledge and heard the whole exchange.

“Sorry. I’m a pessimist by nature,” Eric reminded him. “And a cynic. And a curmudgeon. Let me get the thesaurus, I’m sure there are other words too.”

“All that and more,” Damian agreed, chuckling. “The perfect foil to Lyons’s relentless earnest optimism.”

“Pretty sure that’s why Captain Hendallen assigned us to work together. I keep him from stumbling off cliffs in blind trust and he keeps me from being too much of a miserable sot.”

“Yes, however would I survive without you?” Colin snarked, rolling his eyes teasingly.

“Are you _sassing_ him, Detective?” Damian looked genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know you had it in you! Anyway, you must do a good job of keeping him from being a miserable sot, since somehow the pessimistic cynical curmudgeon managed to catch the attention of the sun.”

Eric choked on his coffee. “This again? Haven’t you beaten that subject to death yet?”

“Oh, my dear ser, on the contrary - I have hardly even begun to beat this subject,” said Damian, waving his hand. “I’m not certain I see what the holdup is, exactly. Once this debacle is concluded, what could possibly be impeding the two of you?”

“I promised her a second visit to the Adamant club. Beyond that, I’m not presuming anything.”

“Well, that’s something at least. I think it’s obvious she has her sights set on you.”

“Yeah, it’s reached a point where even I couldn’t be willfully blind to it,” Eric conceded. “Eventually she’ll come to her senses. Right now, she’s probably caught up in gratitude or something.”

“We’ll see,” Damian replied, smirking into his coffee cup. “I’m not convinced it’s that surface level, but I have been known to be wrong on extremely rare occasions.”

“Speaking of the club, though, instead of having a regular party, why don’t we all go out there when this is over?” Eric suggested. “Less work for everyone involved.”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Colin agreed. “Once everyone is back home and settled and all the paperwork is done, I think that will be just what we all need.”

“Just need to find you a babysitter.” Eric drained his coffee cup. “Anybody else need a refill?”

“On a day like today, I don’t think indulging a bit will hurt,” said Colin, holding out his own cup. “I’d like to propose a toast then, if I may. To this finally being over, and justice being served.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said his partner.

As mugs were clinked and drained, they were joined in short order by the women. “So,” said Constance, entering last of all with her hands folded behind her back, “this, hopefully, is it then.”

“With any luck, we will be out of your hair by tonight,” said Evelyn, bouncing her daughter in her arms. “Colin, can you take her so I can eat? Or are you not finished yet?”

“No, no, I’m finished. Come to Da, darling.” Even to those who had only met Colin a few days hence, it was obvious he was not a man who ever missed an opportunity to hold the child in question.

“You’re not in our hair at all,” said Falcon with a laugh, watching as Colin snuggled his little girl. “I’m sure you’re all eager to get back to your own home, though, and I don’t blame you.”

“The only difficulty I foresee is getting Nicolas out of your library.” Evelyn chuckled. “He’s been plowing through every book you have on poetry or history.”

“That’s my boy,” said Colin fondly, likewise chuckling.

“Oh, he’s more than welcome to take a few of those books with him, or come back and make use of the library whenever he wants,” said Falcon with a wave of her hand. “In fact, you’re all welcome here. It’s a big place - sometimes it gets a little lonely with just me and Connie and Ferris.”

“I still can’t get over the fact that you’re married to my landlord,” said Eric. “I always assumed he lived at the Hanged Man.”

“He did when we first met, but he’s lived here with us since the wedding a few years ago,” she explained. “Neither of us wear the rings too often, me especially. I don’t want people noticing it and figuring out that I’ve got someone _else_ in my life who can be put into danger or threatened. Connie’s been through enough as it is. Besides, a lady has a right to a few secrets,” she added with a smirk.

“No argument.” He held up his hands placatingly. “Just didn’t know. Seems like you’ve got the right idea, honestly.”

“Hey, just because you live dangerously doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone forever,” she said, gesturing broadly with her coffee mug. “Sometimes you just have to get creative.” She regarded Eric and her sister over the top of said mug as she sipped placidly.

He busied himself with adding sugar and cream to his refilled cup. “As we were saying before you ladies joined us, we’re hoping this will all be done by tonight. But I feel like there’s something still missing from the situation.”

“Oh yes?” said Constance, watching him curiously. If she had caught her sister’s glance, she was doing a masterful job of ignoring it. “Like what exactly?”

“Not sure. I just think we need to be on our guard - there’s going to be some kind of surprise before this is all said and done.”

“It could be something good,” said Falcon. “It could be a surprise fleet of griffons waiting just for you.” She chuckled, then sobered. “In all seriousness, though, do you want me to call Hendallen, see if she can spare some extra backup for you?”

“It might be worth having some of the crew on standby,” Eric allowed. “But we’ll get in touch with her this afternoon - let’s try to enjoy the morning.”

“You’re right,” said Falcon. “It’s been a while since we’ve had so many guests for breakfast. Let’s leave this mess outside.”

“Fresh topic,” Constance proposed. “Can I ask how the two of you met? That seems like it might be a nice story.” She indicated Colin and Evelyn.

“Oh, oh, of course.” Colin smiled at her, bouncing his daughter lightly in his arms. “It was about two and a half years ago. Thedas was suffering under this group of bank robbers, you might remember them - the media dubbed them the “Red Templars” because they always wore these red masks to cover their faces. Anyway, they eventually made their way into the Free Marches to hit the Royal Bank of Starkhaven and some of the banks in different cities here, including some in Kirkwall. As they were fleeing the scene of one heist, they got careless and caused a massive traffic accident, several fatalities.” He shook his head, clearly remembering the destruction. “I went down to talk to the only victim who survived the accident.” He glanced at his wife.

“Pure luck,” Evelyn said. “There was a Chantry priestess nearby and she somehow pulled me out of the wreckage. Never did find out who she was, she disappeared - I remember very little else.”

“Andraste was smiling on you that day, my love,” said Colin, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I accompanied her to the hospital, but never expected to see her again after that. Imagine my surprise when Nicolas, who used to help the police by giving us tips, came to me a few weeks later and told me about the nice woman named Evelyn who had been taking care of him just like I took care of him. Turned out Evelyn was here for her teaching degree, so I saw her more and more.” His gaze darkened for a minute, turning steely like a dull blade. “There was a bit of… unpleasantness with the Red Templars during that time as well. I’ve never stopped suspecting Samuelson and Stendahl were somehow involved, but I could never prove it.”

“No wonder you were so on edge when we went to see them,” said Falcon. “It makes sense now.”

“It helped, in a way,” Eric snarked. “He had a rough time talking to her unless it was related to the case - or the kid. The whole situation gave him an excuse to have actual conversations and she eventually got him to talk about other things.” He winked at Evelyn.

Colin chuckled faintly. “I was… utterly hopeless - to the point where Evelyn almost went back to Ostwick to finish her degree there instead.  That was enough to make me realize how much I need her.”

“And once we got married, we adopted Nicolas officially, and Ella came along about a year later.” Evelyn smiled.

“I never expected any of this was waiting for me when I left Ferelden,” Colin said, and his tone and gaze were full of affection. “And after the things I'd been through there, I didn't think I even deserved them. But I've never been so happy to be wrong.” He squeezed Evelyn’s hand and smoothed Ella’s hair.

“How sweet.” Constance smiled. “You two have a lovely family.”

“Eric is the honorary uncle,” Evelyn added. “He was even there when Ella was born.”

“For a given value of _there_ ,” Eric clarified. “I wasn’t in the room, but I was at the hospital.”

“Ella came along a bit earlier than expected, so I was at work when the call came. Eric drove me there - and thank the Maker for it too. I was in no fit state to drive.” Colin chuckled.

“Never saw anybody’s face turn that particular shade of white before,” his partner joked. “It was an adventure.”

“Poor man,” Constance said with a little laugh. “But she’s such a precious little thing - she has your hair color and your eyes.” She nodded first to Colin, then to Evelyn.

“She’s a beauty,” Falcon agreed. “Nicolas seems like a sweet kid too.”

“He is,” said Colin. “Of course, I’m probably a little biased. But he’s been through so much in his life already and it hasn’t dimmed his spirit. Sometimes I wonder how he does it.”

“Some people are like that,” she replied sagely. “Life hits them hard and it’s sometimes more than the usual amount of unfair, but they still keep going. Nothing dulls that light.” She glanced fondly at her sister.

Constance returned the look, which was also mingled with gratitude. “I find those types of individuals often have wonderful people helping them through everything,” she said, “helping to keep them… sunny.”

Eric chuckled into his coffee, ignoring whatever look Damian was sending in his direction. “That’s usually how it goes. Everybody needs somebody propping them up from time to time. Well, the pot seems to have gone empty, let me go whomp up some fresh coffee.”

“I’ll come and help,” Constance said, rising. “I can show you where everything is.”

“Oh, that’s - uh - yeah, okay, thanks.”

There may have been some snickering behind them as Constance led Eric into the kitchen, but she ignored it, instead focusing her attention on finding the proper cabinet. “Here we go,” she said at last, leaning up to get the pot. She turned back around to face Eric, her fingers brushing over his as she passed it to him.

“Thanks.” He tried to find neutral things to say while he filled the pot with water, like commentary on the weather or the color beige. “I drink too much of this stuff, but it keeps me going.”

“Mm…” she replied, bouncing her fist off of her palm, clearly lost in thought. After a moment, she spoke. “Eric… you _will_ be careful tonight, won’t you?”

“I’m always careful. It’s why they give me the big guns,” he joked, turning on the stove. More seriously, he added, “It’ll be all right. Whatever happens, it’ll be all right.”

She nodded, but still looked uncertain. “It’ll only be all right when you all come back safely,” she said. “When _you_ come back safely.”

“You’re really that worried? We’ll have a lot of backup… and they don’t know we’re coming so we have the element of surprise on our side too.” The water was starting to get hot, which he supposed was why the kitchen was feeling overly warm, sort of like walking into the bathroom after your suitemate took a shower and used up all the hot water and all you can do is draw smiley faces in the steamy mirror.

“Of course I’m worried - after everything we’ve all been through since this started, how can I not be? I don’t want anything to happen that takes Colin away from his family or that takes you away from…” She cleared her throat. “...from me.”

His look for her was incredulous, though unusually soft. “You barely know me, Sunshine. Why all the concern - or attachment?”

“It’s not everyday someone looks at you like you’re the sun,” she said, smiling. “It’s not a shallow sort of look, it’s something deeper - and I like it.”

“Bah. A lady like you probably has a dozen people looking at her like she’s the sun and she just doesn’t know it.” The thought vaguely annoyed him, however, so he plunged ahead. “You’re a prize. Your sister knows it, everybody in that whole room knows it.”

Her smile was extremely luminous at that and it was possible a faint blush dusted her cheeks. “Even if people do look at me like that, there aren’t a whole lot who mean it like you do. You’re right that we barely know each other, and yet I feel like we do. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“I kind of understand. I just… am not good at this.” He gestured aimlessly. “Last time I tried something like this, it ended pretty much in disaster, in almost every sense of the word.”

“Oh?” Constance’s delicate eyebrows lifted in query. “May I ask what happened?”

“Bare bones version, I got left at the altar.  Then she married someone else. Then I ended up having to save her neck a couple months back when she got mixed up in Carta business. Got her out of the Marches and haven’t heard two words since.” He shrugged. “Not that I expected I would, she’s in witness protection. Probably for the best.”

“Maker, I’m sorry, that sounds dreadful. I didn’t… I hope I didn’t pry.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” _Fine_ was perhaps not the right word, but she hadn’t meant any harm and he knew it. “All I’m saying is that it’s not you, it’s me. I don’t… I mean… my life’s kind of weird. Also dangerous, as you’ve observed. Not the best place for a real lady.”

She smiled a little at that, somewhere between flattered and a bit amused. “‘A real lady,’” she repeated. “I don’t know about all that. I think danger and I get along just fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to get along with it. Like Siren - Curly’s missus - it’s not fair what happens to some people. You don’t deserve this mess, and neither did she.” He shook his head. “I think I’ve wandered away from my point. Mostly I just didn’t want you to think I was… I don’t know. You can do better.”

“Maybe. But I disagree. Life has given me my fair share of things I didn’t deserve - that’s life. But maybe now life is giving me something I really want. Something I really need.”

“You decide things quickly,” he teased her. “Considering we’ve been out once, it was technically work for me, and it only ended as well as it did because of a dashing vigilante coming to our rescue, I’d have expected you to run for the hills.”

She could not suppress a laugh at that. “My sister’s the Champion of Kirkwall. And even before that, danger seemed to follow us like a lost mabari puppy. As I said, I’m quite accustomed to life not being neat and orderly, so I suppose the same is true for my love life.”

“You may be onto something,” he admitted. “I swore I’d never go through this again, but… something tells me that I couldn’t say no to you even if I wanted.”

She laughed again, a pleasant sound, and her eyes were sparkling slightly. “Am I really so beguiling?” she asked, still giggling.

“You are, and you know you are,” he returned, smirking. “I’m probably not the first man who couldn’t say no to you.” The unfinished thought hung in the air; much to his genuine surprise, he found that while he probably wasn’t the first, he liked the idea that he might be the last. He rubbed the back of his neck.

Her smile lit up at the compliment, but at the second part of the detective’s statement, Constance shook her head. “Would it surprise you to find out you are?”

“It would render me shocked and stunned. You probably leave a trail of slack-jawed admirers behind you wherever you go.” He was laying it on a bit thick, like too much peanut butter in a sandwich; but sometimes too much was just enough.

“You’re flattering me.” She laughed. “To the best of my knowledge, there is no trail of admirers, slack-jawed or otherwise.”

“You’d have your hands full with me,” he warned. “I keep odd hours, and I probably drink too much, and there’s the whole danger thing I already mentioned.”

She shrugged. “Miriam’s right in what she said over breakfast - just because you lead a dangerous life doesn’t mean you should be alone.”

“Hm, can’t deny you have a point there.” Eric found himself sort of wishing the captain had introduced him to both of these women long since – he could understand why she hadn’t, but he felt like knowing both of them was good for him, in different ways. “Let’s… let’s get through this first. Then the others agreed we’ll go back to Adamant to celebrate and you can get that second dance you requested. After that… well… let’s see how things go.”

She nodded, smiling softly. “I think I can agree to that. But at the very least, I didn’t want you marching off to whatever awaits you all tonight without… knowing how I feel.”

“You’re something else, Sunshine, I’ll say that.” He took the boiling kettle off the stove and started making the coffee. “I actually feel a little younger when you’re around, and I’ve thought for years that I was born 35.”

“You’ve been through a lot, seen a lot… if I have the power to make things a bit brighter, then I’m glad.”

“You do.” Glancing at her, he managed a smile. “Let’s get this out to the others while it’s still hot.”

“Okay.” Before he could take the pot, however, she leaned forward to place a ghost of a kiss on his lips. “A taste of what’s to come, perhaps? Maybe some incentive to come back tonight?” She smiled coquettishly.

Well, he hadn’t seen that coming - maybe he should have, Damian probably would have, but somehow he didn’t. There was something crazy about this dame; he had a feeling she’d be keeping him on his toes for a long time. “I think I could be persuaded,” he said after a short, stunned pause.

She couldn’t help but giggle. “Excellent. Well… uh… coffee.” She took the pot and smiled over her shoulder at him as she departed.

He trailed after her, still a little mystified, like the cosmic dust left in the wake of a passing comet. Life just got interesting in a whole new way.

* * *

The afternoon passed decently, but soon it was time - with their retinue of backup - for the three men to make their way to the rendezvous point. They infiltrated the warehouse without much difficulty; Kirkwall was full of such nondescript locations, so it had just been a matter of finding the right one. “These places all look alike,” Damian complained.

“Part of the city’s charm, Sparkler,” replied Eric. “Now we wait.”

“Now we wait,” Colin repeated. This was never his favorite part of an operation, but if they could just get through this, they would be home free. Hopefully. “According to Callista, we should be expecting Samuelson first - with any luck, we should have him in custody with none the wiser by the time Phillips arrives.”

“I still think we’re in for some kind of surprise,” Eric muttered. “I just wish I knew what it might be… of course, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Well, this is why we carry guns,” said Damian, hefting his own experimentally. “That way surprises tend to be a little less… surprising.”

“Shh… listen.” Eric held up a hand. Distant footsteps could be heard echoing through the seemingly empty warehouse.

The other two men froze, tilting their heads to listen. After a beat, Colin drew his weapon and glanced at his companions. “Samuelson?” he mouthed, lifting his eyebrows in rhetorical query.

Eric lifted his hands in a gesture of unknowing. Likely it was either Samuelson or the Crows he had been sent to rob; but it sounded like only one person. The odds were in favor of it being him. They began to creep through the shadows in pursuit of their quarry, jaws set and eyes hard and flinty.

There was a moment where all was silent - a silence so tense it seemed even the slightest noise would shatter it like a cheap wine glass. Colin nodded to his two companions, signaling for them to watch his back. Then, he raised his gun and stepped out of the shadows to point it at the interloper. “Don’t move.”

“Oho. Well played, Lyons,” rasped the district attorney. “Suppose now we know for sure where Callista went when she disappeared - ran right to you, told you everything she knows. Judith’ll have words for her.”

“The only person your boss will be having words for will be her own cellmate once we’re finished with her,” Colin replied, a smirk of satisfaction conquering his mouth. “I told you that the two of you weren’t untouchable. I’ve waited for this for a long time.”

“I know you have, you’re a champion grudge-holder. Did you think I was really going to come alone? Callista may have turned on us, but her Venatori are still useful, especially when added to my crew.” Samuelson sneered, looking pleased with himself, but after a moment he paused. Whatever support he was expecting was not coming; the backup officers outside must have detained them. “Very clever, Lyons. Give my regards to your pretty wife; the day she survived that accident was where it all started to unravel.”

“I always knew you were involved. I’ll make sure you pay for that too.” There was a moment where it looked as though Colin genuinely considered clobbering the wicked DA with his gun, but if such an impulse existed, he swallowed it.

“It’s okay, Curly. We got him.” Eric patted Colin’s shoulder. “Let’s get him out to the captain, I’m sure she’s arranged a special ride for him.”

Colin took a deep breath and smirked once more. “You’re probably right.” He reached down to his belt, fetching the pair of handcuffs that were secured there, then forced them roughly around Samuelson’s wrists. “Russell Samuelson, it is with great pleasure that I can finally say you are under arrest.”

* * *

Almost two hours later, the whole thing seemed to be over. Corey Phillips had arrived and been taken into custody, along with the Crows, and the heroes of the hour were left holding the tourmaline necklace of Divine Rosamund. “Not bad for a day’s work,” Eric remarked. Everything seemed to have been wrapped up in a neat if oddly-shaped package, like when your grandmother sends you an extremely lumpy pair of hand-knitted socks for Satinalia.

“No, not bad at all,” said Damian. “Two of the most corrupt figureheads of Kirkwall’s legal system have been toppled, Tevinter has lost a madman and, should Callista return, will gain a reformer, and the Chantry gets its priceless relic back on top of it all. We should be celebrating, I think.”

“A premature decision,” said a new voice. They looked around, but it was impossible to tell where it originated. “You’ll forgive my tardiness, but I was waiting to see how everything would play out. You have my thanks, detectives, and my compliments, for dispatching everyone so neatly. Now if you’ll be so good as to hand over the necklace, I’ll be on my way.”

Weapons that had previously been laid aside jumped into hands once more and were pointed into the gloom of the warehouse. Colin peered around. “Kirkwall PD,” he shouted. “We are armed. Come out with your hands up.”

“I’m perfectly well aware that you’re armed, Detective Lyons,” said the voice. It was so calm, so cool and collected, it was almost mesmerizing. “I have no desire for bloodshed, but I have something of great value and I daresay you’ll be willing to make this exchange.”

“Who are you?” Eric demanded. “Show yourself.”

“I am called Harel,” he said. “Master Silas Harel.

“That name…” said Eric. “I know that name. You… you own that bakery in Hightown, don’t you? The Bread Wolf? _You’re_ behind this?”

“Yes. I was the one who set Phillips on his path to steal the relic, so that I might take it from him when he succeeded. I didn’t expect the official forces in this matter to be so competent. As I said, my compliments.”

“We don’t need your compliments,” Colin spat. “And we’re not in the habit of making deals with criminals - particularly ones who hide in the shadows.”

“I have every faith that you will make an exception for me,” said Harel. “Place the necklace on the floor, nice and gentle. You see, Phillips just wanted to ransom it for money to build his business empire. I have other plans… the tourmalines in that necklace are of exceptional quality; I plan to experiment on them.”

“You’ll forgive us if we aren’t overly eager to hand the necklace over just so you can use it for your own interests,” Damian cut in. “We’ve all been through hell and back for this bloody thing.”

“I quite understand. Let me make this easier for you.” There was movement above them, and a figure draped in what looked like a fur pelt stepped out onto a walkway. He had an iron grip on a second individual, whose head was obscured by a burlap hood. “I’m sure that after all the effort Detective Varras expended trying to protect her up until now, he won’t want to see her come to a bad end.” So saying, Master Harel pulled off the hood, revealing Constance with a strip of duct tape over her mouth.

There was a look of fire in Constance’s eyes that said she longed to make this man pay for what he was doing. But as it was, she was completely trapped and the intensity in her gaze could not disguise the unbridled fear there also. “Oh, Andraste preserve us,” said Colin in complete shock, his eyes darting towards Eric.

The older detective had gone pale, his gun hanging limply in his hand like last summer’s broccoli that was just discovered in the back of the refrigerator. He stared up at Constance in shock and dismay, his mind churning, desperate to find a way out. But nothing that came into his head seemed like it would work. Harel had a gun; if they shot him, she could be hurt. He might throw her over the railing. He might leave and take her with him and who knew if they would ever find him.

“All right,” he said slowly. “You can have the gems, just let her go.”

From her place in Harel’s grip, Constance shook her head frantically, her sounds of protest muffled by the tape that covered her mouth. Eric’s companions, on the other hand, both seemed to agree. “No holy relic is worth someone’s life like this,” said Colin.

“An excellent decision,” said Master Harel in a tone so conversational it suggested a waiter complimenting someone’s wine choice, not a criminal being given his prize only after holding an innocent person hostage.

Eric held up his hands, the gun gripped loosely in the right hand as he met Constance’s eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, honey,” he said in a forcibly calm tone. “Don’t worry. It’ll all be okay. Look, we’re going to leave the necklace right here. You let her go, and we’ll walk away.”

“I would appreciate it if the weapons were left behind as well. As soon as those terms are met and you three are out of sight, you have my word she will be released.”

“We are men of action,” said Damian, shaking his head. “Lies do not become us.”

“This is not a lie,” Master Harel insisted. “I already told you I have no interest in bloodshed if it can be prevented. Now, do as I say.”

“Look, you’re not exactly proving yourself the most honorable and trustworthy person, so you’ll have to forgive us if we don’t exactly put a lot of stock in your word,” Eric seethed. “Let her go and _then_ we walk away.”

Master Harel scowled. Before he could properly respond, however, he found himself making an unintelligible sort of _hurk_ sound, and his grip on Constance broke as he slumped to the floor. Blood began to seep through the fabric of his shirt.

“Consider yourself lucky it was just your shoulder I hit,” said another voice - cool, elegant, and heavily Nevarran accented. The owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows, lowering the gun and silencer that were gripped in her hand.

“Oh hey, there you are,” said Eric casually. Constance, meanwhile, lost no time scrambling away from Harel, pulling the tape from her mouth and finding stairs that would lead her to the floor. “Easy, Sunshine. I told you it’d be all right.”

Shakily, she all but threw herself into his arms, gripping him tightly as she tried to master her breathing. Above them, the new arrival was handcuffing Harel to the banister, not doing much to mind his injured shoulder. “Is everyone all right?” she called down.

“Pretty sure nobody was hurt, not yet at least,” Eric called back. “Any chance you could bring him down here and let me punch him in the face before you haul him away?” He patted Constance gently on the back.

“I'm sure something can be arranged,” the woman said with a smirk.

Constance looked up at last, peering from Eric to the mysterious woman and back again. “How did… who… how did you know she would come?”

“That would be telling,” he teased. “I’ll let our friend introduce herself. It’s good to see you again, Seeker,” he added, glancing up at the newcomer.

The woman regarded Eric with narrowed eyes for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest, before shaking it off. “My name is Alexandra Pendragon,” she said at last, introducing herself to the two who didn’t already know her. “But you may call me the Right Hand of the Divine.”

“You’ve been sent to recover this thing, I expect?” Damian gestured to the box containing Rosamund’s treasure.

“Yes. Although I must admit, this was unexpected.” She nodded curtly in the direction of their prisoner. “All’s well that ends well, I suppose.”

“Well, let’s take him to meet Captain Hendallen,” Eric proposed, “since I’m sure she’ll want to know what’s going on in here.”

“An excellent suggestion,” she remarked, hauling Harel to his feet and gesturing towards Colin. “If you would be so kind, Detective.”

Colin and Damian dragged the still-bleeding fugitive outside. “You go on with them, Sunshine,” Eric suggested. “I’ll be right behind you, I just want to make sure we didn’t miss anything here.”

She nodded, then lifted a hand to his cheek. “Once again, you were here when I needed you. Thank you.”

He smiled, and waited until she was out of earshot to speak again. “So… uh… thanks for the timely rescue.”

“Of course,” said Alexandra. She lifted an eyebrow, crossing her arms again. “Admit it - you had no idea help was coming and you know it.”

He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I admit it. I just didn’t want the poor girl scared any more than she already was. Do me a favor and don’t rat me out, will ya?”

“Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.” Her expression turned into one vaguely delighted. “The idea of you rescuing her is a very romantic one, after all.”

“Oh, not you too.” He chuckled. “Everybody in this outfit has been pushing her and me together since we met.”

“Can’t imagine why,” she joked, picking up the box that contained the necklace. “Well, perhaps now that the relic is returned and you all are heroes, you’ll have an opportunity.”

“Considering that she’s part of the ‘everybody’ angling for us to get together, I think I’ve been outvoted.” He shrugged. “I can’t complain. Come on, let’s go put the city at ease.”

Colin, Damian, Constance, and at least a dozen of Captain Hendallen’s finest were waiting outside when Alexandra and Eric emerged with the necklace. There was a collective sigh of relief at the sight of it. “The Divine will be grateful to you,” Alexandra said, “all of you. You’ve done excellent work. I’m not quite sure I want to know all the methodology that went into it, but excellent work all the same. It’s been quite a day for Kirkwall.”

“Indeed,” said Colin. “I have zero illusions that arresting Judge Stendahl and Samuelson will erase corruption in this city overnight, but it will certainly go a long way. I know I’ll sleep better at night with them behind bars.”

“We should get Sunshine home and let everybody else know what happened,” said Eric. “Ev will probably sleep better because you’re sleeping better.”

“Probably. Although it won’t fix the sleep talking, I’m sure.” He chuckled. “Now, let’s put this business behind us.”

* * *

A week later, the worst of the details had been handled, and those which hadn’t were the province of the newly appointed replacement district attorney, Mark Allen. The detectives and their little circle of newfound friends and allies made their way out to the Adamant club and toasted to their success with a round of drinks. “Not my favorite way to make new friends,” Eric quipped, “but I can’t complain.”

“Well, I met my wife while investigating a bank robbery, I think it only appropriate that I find some new friends while investigating a necklace.” Colin laughed. “No one can accuse us of leading normal lives.”

“Maker forbid.” Eric chuckled, his gaze sweeping the club like a runaway zamboni. “Looks like the club host has a thing for the piano player.”

The club host was a burly man with rough hands and a dark beard, but in the presence of the gold-clad piano player, he was practically putty. There was a vase of roses on her piano that most assuredly had not been there before, and she seemed to be giggling over it with the redheaded singer. “They make a handsome couple,” said Damian, who seemed to only be half looking at the handsome couple in question; his attention seemed primarily on the other singer.

“They do. Well, darling, shall we dance?” Evelyn gave her husband a sweet smile. “Otherwise I was brought here under false pretenses.”

“My love, I would like nothing more than to dance with you.” He smiled, stood, and executed a playful little bow. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

“But of course.”

Eric watched them with slight chagrin. “How am I supposed to follow that?” he grumbled. “Well, Sunshine, I promised you a second dance. Would you like it now or later?”

“Now sounds perfect,” she replied, the look in her eyes extremely bright as she got to her feet. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I won’t pretend to know why, but as you wish.” He slid out of his seat and guided her out to the dance floor.

Falcon watched them, chuckling. “She’s always had a thing for stocky guys.”

“They’re very well suited,” said Alexandra, who likewise watched the pair, leaning on her hand as she did so. “So romantic.” She sighed dreamily.

“Yeah, it could be if he ever loosens up about it. I think he’s afraid of her.”

“Afraid of her or afraid of happiness?” Alexandra inquired sagely.

“Both, if I don’t miss my guess,” Damian put in. “I, on the other hand, am afraid of nothing, so I think I’ll go tender a few requests of the singers.”

“Such as a request to dance with one of them, if I don’t miss _my_ guess?” Falcon teased, grinning.

“Possibly. I shan’t jinx myself, however.”

Falcon shook her head, watching him go. “This, I suspect, is only the beginning of our adventures,” she remarked. “Planning to stick around, Right Hand?”

“I think I might.” Alexandra nodded. “At least for a little while. Someone needs to keep an eye on that one, after all.” She pointed at Eric.

“Good. I’m sure the new DA will be glad of it as well,” Falcon teased. She lifted her glass. “Here’s to the next wild ride.”

Alexandra chuckled and clinked her glass against Falcon’s. “May life always be an adventure - although maybe a little less dangerous next time.”

“Cheers.”


	17. Epilogue: Editor to Author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The editor replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to post this part and finish the story! Sorry, it's been a little busy around here. We still have plenty of Skyhold shenanigans in store for our wonderful readers, so stay tuned for a new story coming soon!

Varric,

Finished reading  _Bright Jewels, Chained City._ Not sure I'm completely sold on the title, or at least the back half of it, but it's got promise. 

I can tell these are your students because there's not a semicolon out of place. You're right, they really did a good job capturing the flavor of  _Hard in Hightown_. If you had lied and told me you wrote it yourself, I probably would have believed you for at least the first several pages.

HiH is your baby, so if you want me to run with this as an officially recognized sequel, we'll go with it. However, there's one thing about the story that makes it obvious (to me anyway) that you didn't write it. The language is too clean. We need to dirty it up a little bit, throw in a few more swear words, because right now it's not completely believable as a sequel to your gritty pulp sensation. I know that's because these are your students writing and they probably didn't want to swear at their teacher in an actual school assignment, and it makes sense. But your readers expect a little more dirt than this.

I'll muck it up in a couple of places and send you galley proofs as soon as possible. Meanwhile, give those kids an A. Say hello to Bethany and please stop smothering the poor girl.

~E.

 

_~Fin~_


End file.
